The Divine Lotus
by JeffC FTW
Summary: Driven by betrayal and madness, Ambassador Weyoun must remarry to save his position following the death of his unfaithful wife and with his brother plotting revenge. Eventually, Kilana who is the daughter of his advisor weds him but spares her life with an entertaining tale each night. Inspired by "The Arabian Nights".
1. Gods and Demons

**I had just been reading "The Arabian Nights" as well as watched the 2000 movie starring Mili Avital and others - the stories of Aladdin, Ali Baba and assorted others all told by Scheherazade, the second wife of the vengeful Sultan Shahryar and the Grand Vizier's daughter, who courageously ups to save herself as well as help her husband overcome his distrust of all women due to the fact his wife betrayed him and slept with his scheming brother. He ended up killing his first wife for it. Now he intended to marry another wife to prevent his brother from taking the throne - only to kill her the next morning to prevent another infidelity. To prevent his madness from murdering an innocent women, Scheherazade ignores the pleas of her father and entertains her abusive husband each night with a fantastical story to earn his trust and help him towards the light.**

 **It was this movie and the stories themselves which inspired me to do a brand new Vorta fic, altered a little to become a true fantasy that has little to no part to the original DS9 show. :) Scheherazade was a brilliant heroine who brought everything to a happy end even when she nearly faced death at her husband's hands, and the husband himself came to forgive her. Which brings me to the story of Weyoun and Kilana - my second fic version of them.**

 **Weyoun is now in the role of the suffering, mad Sultan (Ambassador in this case) and had murdered his wife who betrayed him with his brother (in this case being Luaran and Gelnon); now he needs to remarry to save his position, but the women of his people are ridden with fear - until the beautiful Kilana, daughter of Weyoun's advisor Borath, comes to the decision to save the life of the man she remembers from childhood against her father's pleas. Tales of the "Arabian Nights" are woven with twists of Vorta culture, all combined with an adventure of love, revenge, betrayal, morale and ultimate forgiveness.**

 **Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Not the movie inspiration, not Star Trek: DS9, or any of the characters.**

Chapter One

Gods and Demons

 _From where he was hiding in the ferns and gracefully curving collection of trees, he watched the vision before his eyes: the lovely Vorta maiden with her long dark hair swirling in curls about her shoulders, covering her ears and revealing based on her change in pace during her dance for her god - her friend? A lowly servant dancing for her god? He found himself a tad jealous. He tried to imagine her dancing for_ him.

 _The garb revealed certain areas of her body, brown velvet etched with glamorous beading in colorful swirls of gold, orange and red; panels of orange silk draped the skirt which bared her marvelous legs. She dipped and swirled in the palm of the shape-shifting god, whose smooth peach face contorted in bliss at the sight of the small figure in the palm of his hand. Her beauty could rival no other's, and that was why he picked her of all his followers, it seemed. She bore such power that no one else could see except him. Her dancing enticed him - and_ him _\- to no end._

 _His eyes, wide and blue as the skies, closed when his prize bent her leg and then extended it straight, before placing her hand behind her head and shaking her hips, gyrating and swirling like a whirlpool and carrying him down with her. He laughed, pleased to his core, to the end when she ceased her performance and fell to her knees._

 _And now it was his turn to perform for her._

 _His voice rumbled and echoed in the ears of both his slave girl and the hidden one._

"And what shall I do for you, my precious?"

 _"Anything," she answered. "Surprise me, my master."_

 _So he did: in an instant, he shimmered into golden form, then formed a great globe over her and the great embossed metal box sized to engulf the lone lady herself, trapping her - and immediately, he changed into a shower of gold and various colorful jewels, accompanied by assorted flowers including red rose petals and the native lotus - the symbol of divine birth. She let loose a series of cries of unlimited pleasure, dancing around in the rainfall of luxury._

 _But then it was over, and her god was back into his solid form, tired in the face and perhaps weary to his core._ "Later," _he told his lady when she begged for more._ "Changing my shape is thoroughly exhausting, and I _am_ four hundred and twenty-four years old."

 _The Vorta laughed and waved it off as nonsense. "You do not look a day over one hundred, Founder."_

 _He laughed, flattered._ "Yes, I am as great and powerful as ever I was. We will continue after I have had my...rest." _With that, he picked up his trophy and placed her in the box, crested with gems, and then laid down to revert into natural state for his afternoon slumber. That was HIS cue to step out of his hiding place in the forest at the same time the girl managed to pry herself out of her hiding place and making way for the man she waited for._

 _"Thank you for not telling your friend, the Founder," he told her, his secret lover for some time now. She laughed and waved her hand at him._

 _"He's not my friend, darling - he is my_ husband. _He keeps me in the box because he is jealous of my beauty and brains. Now..." She laid herself back down against the tree, pulling her skirts up to show more of her elongated, toned legs until they were high enough to show the beginning of the base of her thighs, where she was surely tired of waiting for him. Looking into her glittering violet eyes, he saw the mischief and deceit, lack of care for the one who guarded her and protected her, gave her everything he had but she gave nothing in return._

 _"You must make love to_ me _while he sleeps. And if you don't -" Her tone suddenly darkened, becoming something more ominous. "- I will scream for him to wake."_

 _Before he knew what he was doing, his hands found their way to her throat, closing tighly around her pale column with a vengeance and silent hatred of her for her lack of shame. Thinking she could use her beauty and wits to get what she wanted and then discard her toy later...he would get her for this, never mind the god's wrath once he discovered her corpse in the box..._

~o~

He would always wake up screaming at the same time the woman in his dreams would. In his bedroom of grandeur and glory, carved white marble encompassed with golden accents, and he naked in his bed of opulent golden silk and furs from the quadrant trades - he would wake howling and sweating, the perspiration cooling on his bared flesh and in perfect timing when his longtime friend and trusted advisor would come in.

"Not again, Weyoun," Borath moaned, though his tone and demeanor were steady. This was the fortieth night in a row, and counting. There was never a night when Weyoun, Vorta ambassador of the Dominion and commander of the greatest Jem'Hadar force in the Gamma Quadrant, had a restful sleep since that fateful night and attempt on his life.

The man himself stood from his bed, letting the covers fall from his body and not caring if his advisor saw him. He had known the older Vorta since he was a young one. Then he fell back again when the exhaustion overcame his bones. Sighing heavily, he answered. "Borath, the same dream again. A god's wife tried to kill me, so I killed her." Just as he had killed _Luaran_ when she organized the same misdeed attempted on him.

Borath inhaled and exhaled sharply, picking up an exquisitely patterned burgundy pillow out of habit. "Of course, but it's been a year, my friend. Just as your late wife tried to do the same to you."

Weyoun gritted his teeth, his heart pounding again. "I _murdered_ her, Borath," he agreed. And it had been an accident, but how could you ever call murdering your lifemate an accident even if you were the greatest man in existence, and she the daughter of a nobleman under your thumb? And when your wife engaged in carnal relations with your _brother_ who intended to have him killed and take the mantel for himself?

He looked up when Borath picked up the bronze decanter and offered him a glass of tulaberry wine, courtesy of the Karemma. "Yes, but you are now free of her," he told Weyoun, but the ambassador would not accept the drink at this hour of the morning. A year of being haunted by the betrayal and death of his Luaran, her shameless guile blinding him from seeing the fact that it was she and Gelnon all along to plot his downfall.

He shook off the beverage. "No, Borath," he said coldly, standing and walking away in his nude form. "I will never be free of Luaran. She...haunts me in my every waking day and night. She lies dead and buried elsewhere while Gelnon -" He spat the name. "- my treacherous brother plots to have me taken from my position. He was always jealous of me, always thought to get rid of me at every turn he had. And he managed to charm my wife, my Luaran who was my sole reason to live, into turning her back on me!" He raged and slapped a lotus-etched pillar with enough fury that the palm of his hand would be reddened and bruised for some days to follow. Pain was a relief for him nowadays. "And Borath," he added as he stalked over to the balcony which was carved into a grand arch and overlooked the water and floral gardens, perfuming his senses but actually made him even more ill than he already was, "don't you forget by the next two months, I must take a new wife or else my 'dear' -" Once more, sarcasm. "- brother will have everything come to him. Everything I worked for to keep our people prosperous will fall into his hands which I cannot let happen!"

He closed his eyes, shutting out anything else Borath would say. It was by law that he be married and have children, as it was with other races in the galaxy, but he could not - he would NOT - take another bride, because for all he knew, she would try to do the same that Luaran had tried to do to him. He had fallen in love with her the moment he laid his eyes on her, when his father arranged the union, and he'd have thought she would feel the same - but it was Gelnon all along. He was older than Gelnon, and it was destined that Weyoun be the one to command the Jem'Hadar forces and ensure peace between the Vorta and others around them. But Gelnon always thought he weak to handle anyone stronger than they, including the Klingons. And Weyoun proved him wrong, except his wife was a weakness that he never knew he had.

A weakness he vowed never to let control him again.

So, it was settled. "Another wife would seize the opportunity and try to assassinate me, too," he said to Borath, finally turning to look at him. "If the woman in my dream can betray her husband as well as me, then all women can do so."

Borath looked shocked, even more than before. "But Weyoun, you will lose the Dominion and all it stands for unless you marry as quickly as possible!" he insisted. "You had only one bad experience; it does not mean it will occur again."

The hell it wouldn't, and there was only one thing to do in order to prevent it from happening again. "If I do marry...then she has to be executed."

Borath said nothing else, only continued to listen as the diplomat went on about how there would be a wedding, and then the wedding night to follow per custom - and then by the morning, the bride would be put to death. It was that much more logical and the quickest way to go. So to follow, all Vorta women would assume the same fate. But, no princesses of other races, for it would stem issues with the alliance to form. Weyoun sighed and wrapped his arms around another pillar for support as he felt himself getting weaker and weaker.

There was only one place to get a bride with no noble connections. "Take a girl from the zenana, Borath." Someone bright and happy - but no hope of a prosperous future - and in secrecy, to give the chief executioner and his Jem'Hadar the spare of trouble. No bride needed to be slaughtered by ruthless soldiers.

~o~

Not being of royal birth and the daughter of the Grand Advisor to the Dominion representative, she was free to roam the streets Maduraa. The fresh smell of kava nuts and assorted seeds from sesame and on, mingled with the making of rippleberry wine and q'lavas on sale - it was magical even if she'd grown up amongst it all. When she was a child, she was sent away across the sea to Delhati for her schooling for the next fifteen years before coming home - and ultimately learning that the young boy she remembered playing with in the gardens had become the leader of their people.

Fresh fish and other sea catch dominated her senses, too. Melons and other fruits, sold by young women in revealing, colorful clothing showing certain assets while older females bore more covering garments. Men both young and old alike traded and sold the sea material. But in the midst of it all, she roamed the streets until she came to the one place she wanted to be. Kneeling down amongst the crowd, she stood out in her rich blue dress and tunic with the minor embellishments - where the storyteller himself was nearing the end of his latest tale.

"And so," he was saying, crystal clear to her perfect senses - to all perfect senses around him - and she pursed her lips as she relished it, "he was loaded with riches, but that is _not_ -" He held up one finger. "- the end of the story. After Daban was beheaded, the emperor licked his fingers and turned a page in the dead man's book. He stared at the words and then slumped forward _dead_." He did so himself for emphasis, shocking some of the listening audience; the truth was that the majority of this lot only listened for the sake of it. They wasted precious time coming out here when they had other things to do.

But to her, stories were cherished more than anything on Kurill Prime, more than anything in the Gamma Quadrant - more than anything in the galaxy.

"The pages in the book had been poisoned, so that the emperor wetting his finger had executed _himself_ ," Deyos the storyteller finished, ultimately giving his audience the moral of letting greed kill you. It was by then when the others were getting up and leaving that he finally spotted her, remaining even after everyone was gone. "My lady, the sixth time this week," he stated even though he was smiling.

Kilana, daughter of Borath, nodded and stood to walk over and kneel in front of the man she'd grown fascinated by the moment she returned from overseas a few years prior. His stories were the focal of her decision to remain for good. "These people," she said to Deyos, "just sit here for hours, only listening. I call it a miracle what you do, you know that."

He smiled wider. "People need stories more than all the kava nuts and rippleberries in the universe. They tell us how to survive and to guide others along that path."

"Indeed," Kilana agreed. "We all have to survive, and there is always a how and why."

She left him not long after, picking up the needed necessities from the market and returning home in the upper part of the city, not that far from the Maduraa Headquarters because her father was Grand Advisor. She found him in the main lobby with the healer from the headquarters. "Sorry I'm late, Father," she quickly apologized, hurrying to the kitchen and placing the food down into the units before returning to him.

"This is my daughter, Kilana," Borath said.

The other Vorta nodded. "My friend, you may speak freely in front of her. Ambassador Weyoun," he said hesitantly, "has been, I'm afraid...eaten by the worm of madness. I'm afraid I cannot cure him; only the Founders can do that."

Kilana closed her eyes. Weyoun, the young man she remembered, had almost been murdered by his wife and brother - both of him conspired to take his post from him, the betrayal sending him spiraling downwards into insanity. No one, not even her father, had been able to pull him back out no matter what. "Beginner's luck," the healer explained, while her father put his face in his hands and sat down before them. "That sort of experience can be very distressing for an experienced professional like the ambassador and myself as well."

"Doctor," Kilana said hesitantly, "when did Weyoun become so ill?" Borath looked up at her, his eyes pleading with her to not get so far as Weyoun was not the one she remembered. But that wouldn't stop her. She learned a long time ago to never give up on anything. Her mother had that will when she still lived. "I played with him as a child, and he was always so happy. Everyone loved him."

And madness crept in unseen, flooding the soul, the doctor said. And so he left Kilana and Borath be, but the man himself collapsed in defeat. "Father!" she exclaimed, falling beside him. "Are you ill, too?"

She had no idea how sick Weyoun was in the beginning, and her father had done everything he could to make sure no one else knew - and now it was getting worse, it seemed. Borath was getting so himself, as he was dealing with the "worse kind of madman: the ambassador. A man with _power_." She leaned against his shoulder as she began to wonder if anything could be done about the tormented soul who needed another kind of saving if not from the healers or her father's advice.

 **The word zenana is actually an Indian/Iranian word which is nearly the same thing as a harem, which houses the seclusion of women. It seemed right to have another word to fit in place of harem for the Vorta world.**

 **In my research, I looked up the various names of cities in India, and the name of Madurai sounded fit, and I ultimately removed the "I" to make it into the badass-sounding Maduraa (which my boyfriend loved, lol). Delhati is a rearrangement of the known Delhi.**

 **In the beginning before I began, I had to cast the right Vorta for each character from the movie. I knew Weyoun would be the suffering male lead, but I was torn between Eris and Kilana for the role of Scheherazade who will pull him from his darkness - I eventually decided based on personalities from the actual episodes from Deep Space 9. :) Deyos himself from "By Inferno's Light", or something like that, seemed perfect as the storyteller.**

 **Reviews appreciated throughout. :D**


	2. A Lovely Lotus in the Water

**So, no lack of aesthetics, no limited taste and weak eyes - the Vorta are a free people from their gods, even though the Founders are mentioned in mythological terms. :D**

Chapter Two

A Lovely Lotus in the Water

"You know what you have to do that is necessary?" Weyoun demanded of the Vorta in plainer garments; he himself was decked up in all his regality but it did nothing to soothe what ate him away for so many months.

Yelgrun inclined his head once. "I know my job, yes, Ambassador," he answered smoothly, devoid of emotion in his tone. "You wish for your bride to be executed the morning after the wedding - and early at that."

Weyoun nodded, folding his arms across his chest as he surveyed the chief executioner, flanked by two Jem'Hadar soldiers on guard at the diplomat's order. "Yes, Yelgrun," he answered calmly, stoned in and out, excitement threatening to burst. "As early as dawn, maybe sooner. Either way, I want it done. Can you do it or not?"

The other Vorta, less attractive than himself and giving away that fact in his methods, hummed and nodded his part, before it turned. "There are certain procedures to go through first, as I will be executing her _after_ the wedding. It means that she will be madam ambassador who by tradition cannot be shot down or beheaded - or any form, for that matter." He wanted to unleash a series of curses at this man; damn the customs! He wanted it done and done the way he planned.

But then his hopes were on the rise. "But," Yelgrun added with a sadistic smile he longed to return but instead settled on a one-cornered smirk, "where there is a will, there is a way." He held up one of his hands that he'd kept hidden behind his back, and in it was a long chord twisted monstrously thick. The sight made Weyoun burn with pleasure. "But, I cannot use this form of rope for standard executioning means; it would have to be something along the lines of silk. Therefore, all legal requirements would be fulfilled."

The ambassador closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. Yes, this would go well. He would make damned sure not one thing went wrong. He would see to it that everything he held dear would not be destroyed because of his weakness for a female. It happened once; he would not let it happen again.

~o~

The Vorta girls of the zenana were ridden with fear. The ambassador was really mad that he intended to kill all of them. Kilana learned of this when she paid them all a visit, one of the girls hearing the news from her mother who heard it from one of the Jem'Hadar guards who happened to uncover from Chief Executioner Yelgrun's assistant. Their mothers were never wrong - this one's in particular.

"He intends to marry one of us, and then the morning after the wedding...he will kill the bride."

She wanted so much to believe it was only a rumor, that it meant nothing, but her heart knew it was true. "Don't worry," she promised them all. "I'll talk to my father."

She found him in the bath house, steaming and smelling of citrus and roses as well as kava nuts mashed for massaging techniques. She then dragged him out to talk in private about the plan that formulated. It was risky, but she hoped it would be worth it. Kilana never intended to marry, to give any part of herself up and considered her father the main priority, but now the situation with Weyoun...

"If Weyoun wasn't ambassador," Borath said as he fastened his robe around himself and followed his daughter out, "he'd be locked away until the madness wore off." He shook his head in utter disgust. He remembered it as much as she did: Weyoun was a loving, carefree boy, having climbed his father's q'lava tree with her and bandaged her wound when she got her leg cut. He even took her into the pond with the lilies and orchids on the hottest of summer days - all of which ended before they both entered pre-teen years and she was sent to Delhati until womanhood claimed her. She never stopped thinking about him as time went on, but for all she knew, he might not remember her as she was just a simple girl and he the son of the ambassador before him.

"Oh, what am I going to do, daughter?" Borath asked in despair as he brought them both water. "I can't go through with this, but Weyoun will have my head if I don't...but I can't pick up a poor girl from the zenana and condemn her to death."

She nodded, looking down at the tiled floor beneath their feet. "I may have a way out for you, Father," she told him softly, then looked up and proclaimed her fate to save the lives of those other girls, but was it really what it was? She wanted to say, as naïve as it was, it was all in the name of love.

"I'm going to marry Ambassador Weyoun myself."

~o~

That same day, night fell, but it did not diminish the far from pleased response from Borath. And when father and daughter were in the gardens, Kilana leaning over the pool of lotuses and lit candles, they were still debating. "I _won't_ let you sacrifice yourself for me!" he exploded, his calm breaking at once. "You're my daughter and all I have had since I lost your mother -!"

Kilana absently ran her hand through the water which reflected the black jewel of a sky, bedecked with glittering diamonds called stars and streaked with smoky gray clouds. Ripples of silver circled her hand and fingers before spreading out towards the lily pads and the soft pink and white flora. "I'm not doing it for you, Father," she interrupted calmly, "and I'm certainly not doing it to save those other girls - it's for myself and Weyoun."

"Yourself and him." He scoffed, disbelieving it.

That hand which played with the water displayed the ring she always wore around her middle finger, given to her from Weyoun which had belonged to his mother when she left for Delhati; the mother-of-pearl shimmered like the moonlight which had not come out tonight. Kilana gazed at it rather dreamily. "I love him."

"LOVE!" She knew all along he would object even long before she set her plan in motion. She did not know for sure if it would work, but it would be worth a try. Why couldn't her father trust her on this? If he'd been Weyoun's advisor all these years, then he should at least still have some sense of hope in him. "Kilana, you love the boy he _was_ , not the man he is now. That boy is no longer inside; you have to dig deeper to see that. I deal with him every day to know that."

She tried not to look at him in the reflection of the water, instead focusing her attention on the white lily coming her way, the lovely pure white reflecting off the faint glow of the stars above. "It's not just betrayal," her father continued, "by his wife and brother; it's absolute power that has eaten his soul. You think you can change him, but you _can't!_ No one can."

She didn't believe that in the slightest, not even the faintest trace of doubt that she pushed down. "I don't -" she started.

"Kilana, _listen to me."_ Borath sat beside her and took her face into his hand, forcing her to look at him. "I beg you, don't do this."

Kilana pulled her face from his hand. "I don't know what to do yet, but I CAN save him from himself," she stated firmly. "I'm sorry, Father, but I have made up my mind." It took several long moments before he finally reluctantly agreed. She had always been stubborn and willful as her mother had been, and that was why he loved her too much to lose her.

And so the wedding was three weeks later as extravagant planning had been taken in. The night before the wedding, Kilana was brought into Headquarters and given temporary chambers of her own to prepare herself. The lace gown was not so much overtly done; the silhouette was slim with a flaring train, with bell sleeves and a subtle scooping neck to show a slight hint of her chest. The necklace she wore was of crystals forming the shape of a swan's wing, for innocence and beauty - all of which she was, but Weyoun must believe she wasn't. Well, she was determined to prove him wrong.

She found herself looking down at her left hand, where the great ring glowed flawlessly in an emerald cut surrounded with round and marquis alike, set on a band of brilliance. An heirloom from his mother to his last wife - and now hers. Kilana, the second bride in his line, supposed she should feel overwhelmed by this beauty, but she would not let such clarity get to her senes - she tried to comfort herself that Weyoun would never regret giving this to her when the day came.

Her father tried one last time to stop her, but the decision still stood. She was going through with this, and that was final. She kissed Borath and proceeded to join her bridegroom on the balcony for all the people to see.

~o~

His new bride just about signed her death warrant by agreeing to marry him three weeks later. Weyoun was clad in a white shirt, black jacket, trousers and boots - understated but still regal in appearance. He carried himself rigidly. He had not yet seen his bride-to-be, but the time was coming soon. It made him sick even to give her the ring that had been his mother's only to be passed down to Luaran; this one would not deceive him as the one he thought he loved had done to him. His heart was shattered beyond repair he could not let it happen again, as he promised numerous times before.

Borath had found him a suitable wife, but not one from the zenana - it was his own _daughter._

Weyoun had to admit he was taken aback by the decision, but it was not his advisor's will; the daughter herself offered herself willingly. His mind pricked as he wondered what form of trickery this could be if a willing bride gave her hand to his without a fight. And how could Borath give his own offspring to Ambassador Weyoun? So many questions went through his mind on the morning of his wedding as he was bathed, perfumed and prepared.

He saw her the moment he stepped out of his rooms...and it was as if he had been struck with the brilliance of a jewel hit by the sunshine. It was the same feeling that he'd had when he saw Luaran for the first time. Borath's daughter was nothing like Luaran; her dark hair reached her shoulders and straight as a waterfall. Her hair was accented with golden coins and jewels, and the white dress displayed a purity he was positive she did not possess. Looking at her face, it was oval-shaped and set with plump dark lips, her eyes a striking shade of violet no different than his own, shining and full of life - honesty, passion and intelligence. Her name was Kilana.

Now Weyoun frowned as he looked at her for some more time, bride and groom exchanging no words before they were led out to the balcony. Something told him that he must have seen her somewhere before but could not put his finger on as to _where_...

He did not get to figure it out now as it was time to show themselves as husband and wife to the rest of Kurill Prime. Anyone who could not attend saw it from broadcast worldwide.

To even _stand_ here; he loved public appearances, but like this? He wished it was over and done with. He was not the least bit excited about the wedding night, but it was duty only and nothing more. Having a child borne meant he had an heir to carry on, so that meant by killing his new bride - and Borath's daughter - tomorrow morning, he would have no one to carry on what he owned once he was gone. His brother would have his long-awaited chance.

"Ambassador," Borath's voice whispered in his ear, "your brother Gelnon wishes to offer his blessings."

He bared his teeth in a snarl. He was tempted to damn Gelnon with the nerve, but his advisor and the bride's father insisted that Gelnon only wanted to "reconcile". He spat; his brother only wanted to reconcile simply because he had a new bride he saw as a new challenge to see if she stayed faithful to her husband now. Gelnon would never give up without a fight, but neither would Weyoun.

"It would benefit your people for peace," Borath said, and that was it. Weyoun had no choice but to agree, so he sighed and ordered his brother brought to him and his new wife.

To even _look_ at Gelnon the snake as he stood in his presence, wearing black and gold and with his arms elongated outwards for an embrace that Weyoun unwillingly and detestedly accepted for the sake of the people. He looked over at Kilana, seeing the evident despise in her face and her eyes...but how did he know it was not a trick?

When he did embrace, it brought back the onslaught of memories.

 _She was running to the direction of Gelnon, throwing her arms around him in a passionate desperation, and he himself saw this from afar -_

It stopped there, rewinding back to what happened before then: _"Gelnon, kill him! KILL HIM!"_

The next event occurred: _Four figures in black, not Jem'Hadar, leaped from the shadows with their daggers in hand, but his phaser was drawn that they should have expected, and he shot them all dead, before turning his attention to the traitorous sight of the embrace - "My love," he heard her breathe, then kiss his brother, not HIM._

 _She had betrayed him. She helped his brother plan his death. She lured him with her seductive charm and meaningless beauty into their bed only to scream for Gelnon and the black men._

 _Luaran pretended to love him._

 _His ears rang when he screamed out to his brother. "TRAITOR!" Taking aim at the target, he fired his phaser, hoping it would shoot his brother's brains and fry them..._

 _...but it was_ Luaran _who fell dead, not Gelnon._

The cheering of the people snapped him out of his reverie, as did Gelnon's sly voice. "I hope you have better luck this time, brother. Your Luaran _loved_ me."

~o~

It was a sense of celebration going on, but Kilana did not feel like celebrating. It was not because she didn't enjoy parties and social events; it was because the wedding night was near, and she needed to decide what story to tell Weyoun when the time came, but first there were other things to consider. She knew she was going to tell him stories, hook him and use that as means to keep herself alive. Deyos' tales were loud and clear that they were survival means, and many good morals deep within the lines. Weyoun could use messages to help him back towards the light again if he wanted to stop his brother from bringing him down.

Kilana had no experience in political matters besides what she discussed with her father - she was only a storyteller in training and a lover of stories themselves. The young Weyoun had expressed interest in them, but that was when they were children and the times were different. But she strongly believed it was still inside him, that lotus of love ready to bloom; the saying was that the flower that blooms late was the rarest and most beautiful.

She sat in her and Weyoun's - well, his, truthfully - bedroom, surrounded by white and gold. She was dressed in a tight-fitted white silk dress with a sheer robe over, drawn open to show her curves. Her jewels were removed save for her favorite spiraling gold earrings, and she could not take off her rings. She wanted to show Weyoun the ring, not the one that had been his mother's and Luaran's. She _needed_ him to see that she cared about him more than he thought even if this was the first time in a long time they would see each other.

The longer time went on, the heavier the tension became...until she saw him come in from the main entrance, from the corner of her eye. He did not speak to her, nor did she speak to him. How do you start a conversation with someone you loved since you were a child - but who did not trust you in return?

Kilana swallowed. "You do...remember me, Weyoun?" she asked carefully. "From when we were children? We played together here at Headquarters, and you..." She held up her right hand which carried the mother-of-pearl band. "...gave this to me when I went away. It belonged to your mother."

His response spat back with such venom that it made her look down again and avoid direct eye contact. "What's there to remember as a child, Kilana? Why should I even remember you - or the fact that you claim it was my mother's ring you are wearing?" he sneered coldly, devoid of warmth or compassion.

A part of Kilana snapped angrily, but she forced herself to not lose control. Now it was confirmed it would not be easy to remember, but in time, she assured herself. He was approaching her now, with a long string of pearls in his hand, which she recognized as his mother's, too. The both of them had lost their mothers at early ages, but unlike he, Kilana was an only child who did not know what it was like to be burdened with another sibling. By the time he was beside her, a long nimble finger reached up and pushed a strand of hair from her face - out of a sense of seeing how she would respond to his touch and nothing more. She reacted, indeed, at the smooth skin against her face, but there was no warmth that she expected. The long string of pearls dangled menacingly, threatening her. What if he were to strangle her when she did not expect it tonight, rather than tomorrow morning...?

Fast...

But then his touch was gone, and there was a collapse onto the bed. Kilana was startled. Turning around, she saw her new husband curled into himself on the bed. "What is it, husband?" she asked gently, though she herself was frightened as he appeared to be. The healer said that his wife's infidelity was the reason for Weyoun's spiral and distrust of all women, so that was what he needed: her trust.

He glared up at her in the midst of his quivering, as though trying to hold himself together and not lose control. "I don't trust you," he answered, cold as ever. "There is something about you going on that I know nothing about. You're Borath's daughter, and yet he allowed you to marry me."

He was suspicious of her enough as it was, and if she wasn't careful, he would catch up to her faster than she thought. To tell him the truth would mean everything falling apart and her death. She didn't answer, just stood and walked over to where the tulaberry wine was waiting, along with biscuits made at her planned order. "Do you sleep at night?" she asked carefully, bringing it over to him and kneeling before him.

He moaned and looked up at the ceiling, now laying on his back. "I dream," he answered at last, somberly. "For over a month - forty nights and counting. I remember the night she and my brother -" He meant his first wife. "- tried to kill me. And I dream of how a god's wife betrayed him for a mortal man, who she would betray in return if he did not give her what she wanted. So, I cannot trust other women...especially you," he finished with his eyes glittering like purple fire. But she was not affected.

"You don't need to trust me, and I won't force you," Kilana told him. "Here, have this. It's what my father has before bed. Tulaberry wine and sesame biscuits. Sesame courtesy of Earth centuries before."

He leaned over and sniffed distastefully. "I despise sesame."

Now she learned his loathing of a certain kind of seed, and she couldn't help but laugh. Weyoun raised both eyebrows at her, wondering if he said something funny. "No, no!" Kilana answered quickly. "It's just...sesame reminds me of this wonderful story I know. If you want to hear it," she offered with an easy smile. His frown remained, telling her no. Deyos had said if the audience was not interested, then they were not interested - unless you had means of hooking them in the first few moments. "You might like this one. It's about..." She began to crawl his way, after putting the wine and biscuits on the table beside the bed.

"Akihiro and the Forty Thieves."

It seemed she had his interest piqued now, for he raised his head and looked at her with what could resemble childlike curiosity. "F- _forty thieves?_ " he repeated, instantly drawing a parallel to his lack of sleep for the past several nights. "As in, forty thieves for forty _nights?_ How strange."

"Yes," Kilana answered excitedly, "but not as strange as the story itself."

 **Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves was the first story Scheherazade told her husband on their wedding night in the movie. :D And so the adventure begins. For the Vorta version of Ali Baba, I picked the Japanese name Akihiro which means "large glory".**


	3. Akihiro and the Forty Thieves

**In the original tale, Ali Baba was from outside Damascus, a capital and second large city to Syria. The name for said city in Kurill Prime is now known as Suriatia (originally Surat in India). He had a best friend in a camel - I actually do not know how to spell or pronounce the name, but there is a humped beast in here with a Japanese name - its name even comes from the Japanese word meaning "one". :D Totally true to the tale in both the original and in the movie.**

Chapter Three

Akihiro and the Forty Thieves

"You see," Kilana went on, pleased and thrilled to her core as this was one of her childhood favorites, "Akihiro was a poor young man who lived outside the city of Suriatia. A Vorta of decent features, wearing poor clothes, carrying little latinum in his pockets and living on the wild vegetation as he lived in a hallowed out tree in the forest near the great Talaran River which broke into the sea. His best friend was four-legged and had a hump - a wise _ichiran_ camel named Sora. She was one of the wisest of beasts in all of Suriatia. Surrounded by all the native vegetation of our planet in existence, with a desert not far from the frontal forest entry in which Akihiro lived, his only family consisted of not only Sora, but an older brother named Kaeden. Unlike his younger brother, Kaeden was extremely lazy and lacking of common sense."

Weyoun's interest had been piqued, but then it contorted to utter disinterest in a second. "It all sounds very fascinating, if not for the fact that I am lost now," he told her, sitting up cross-legged. "What is the main point of this story?"

Deyos had told her that if you didn't have the audience hooked in the first few moments, they were as her husband said: lost. She cleared her throat and apologized, having gotten down the main hero and two important people in his life, but yet... "It brings me to the eventual main villain of this story: Black Kuro. No one knows his real name, but he was the main ringleader of the titular forty thieves. At the time, the government and the people under it were ravaged with these fearsome men; the Vorta were not entirely peaceful as they are today. Black Kuro was the most murderous of them all, and no one was safe from him and his band."

"And what does he have to do with Akihiro?"

Kilana smiled, displaying all her teeth. "He made Akihiro rich and famous, and in the most unlikely ways imaginable, but unsurprising for the poor man all the same." She found herself looking at the small water fountain in the middle of the bedroom, somehow seeing it as an oasis as she continued the story. "No trade road was safe, for the Forty Thieves always hid and pounced unsuspecting, taking everything they needed and eventually hiding their loot in a secret cave within the Suriatian mountains, striking fear into the hearts of many. Black Kuro himself was a master of disguise and deception."

Weyoun's eyes glittered with the upmost engrossment at the details. His voice was lowered to a hush. "They stole gold, jewels, silks and everything precious. Even food?" he queried, and she nodded.

"Which was found when, unknown to them, Akihiro and Sora the camel were traveling into the oasis one day, and the man himself was talking about how to make himself rich, not uncommon for the poverty. Anyone could fantasize becoming wealthy and powerful, not knowing that prices were too high, and that once you had what you always dreamed of, you had to fight to keep it. It was that day he was collecting firewood to sell at the local market for a substantial - correction, fair price if not more than enough. But it was enough for his brother and himself, and for Sora. He was a really good-hearted young man," she said with a dreamy smile. She almost got lost when she tried to envision that Weyoun - her Weyoun in her heart - had what Akihiro possessed, and his impatient clearing of the throat brought her back to life.

"He considered selling wood not a good idea to make a fortune, had so many ideas of pouring alcohol into trees to grow fruits faster, have a succession of them to come, all of which the camel did not approve but he thought splendid. It was also then that Sora saved his life when she smelled and saw the incoming men in black from the distance. Animals seem to have more common sense than humans and humanoids," Kilana said with a light laugh. "Meanwhile, as he and Sora hid in the bushes, they saw Black Kuro and his band of renegades stop before the collection of caves, and the leader himself reached out and commanded, 'Open sesame'."

"Sesame," Weyoun repeated, frowning. "As in the seeds and the biscuits carrying them."

"Yes. And at the command, the mountain parted in half, letting loose two powerful dragons slithering out and bowing down at the sight of the master thief. They were the guardians of this treasure trove the thieves stashed from the world - until Akihiro himself came along. It was also said to be worthy of someone more noble than the Forty Thieves to take back what rightfully belongs, if only they knew the magic words that Black Kuro used. And he heard it all - and upon seeing the gold, pearls and silks and all taken in a fair amount, he saw this as the opportunity he long waited for, and Sora agreed with him. Kaeden would be most pleased, he knew. They had a way to leave the life they had behind to start fresh, and he managed to get past the dragons and flee with Sora before the Forty Thieves returned at any time.

"By the time he returned home, his lousy brother Kaeden was overjoyed that they would both have their own shares of the riches, but Akihiro himself decided that not only did they need a bigger home in the city for the sake of it; it was to ensure that in case the robbers the riches were taken from would find out _who_ they were robbed by. Kaeden needed to go out on his own, ignoring the plea of his brother that it was dangerous and that he should take Sora with him as she had protected him, but the foolish elder didn't need anyone to look after him, not even who he considered 'just a camel'."

By now Kilana was laying on her side while her husband remained in his position. He had been toying with his mother's pearls still in his hand, but he had been engaged the entire time. "Why was Kaeden different from Akihiro besides the fact he was lazy?"

"Aki had something that Kaeden never had: a good heart."

Unfortunately, Weyoun continued to frown, but she recognized all the signs that he was pondering this new information regarding a being in general. "You truly think a...good heart CAN protect you and anyone around you?" He was asking this of herself. It sounded as though he wanted to believe it as much as she did, but could not. Which answered her question as to whether or not he ever knew anyone with a good heart, and the answer was no. She nodded.

"Anyway, the younger gave him two biscuits to remember the password as he took Sora and found the cave. He bypassed the dragons by feeding them the biscuits and then finding more of the luxuries - but unfortunately, he forgot the password to reopen the doors to let himself out for Sora to carry what he needed. And this cost him his life altogether, for Black Kuro and his men arrived with their newest share, and killed Kaeden when he panicked and engaged in an ill-fated sword duel with the master thief, remembering the password at the last minute and in an untimely manner." She couldn't help but laugh as she tried to picture Kaeden's response, funny and tragic at the same time, when he spoke "open sesame". "Sora had sensed the thieves coming long before and ran off, leaving Kaeden to his doom only to save herself and the fact he forgot the magic words. Upon her return, Akihiro was handling his share of the riches and had hired a servant girl to help him move into the city. Her name was Miana, a young Vorta not much younger than he."

"What was...Miana like?" It seemed to say her name, Weyoun thought it a pleasant roll off his tongue, and the sound made Kilana herself very roused; she pushed it down to concentrate on the story.

"Some say she was beautiful," she answered. "And certainly clever, very independent."

"It sounds like _you_." This was the first time she'd seen a smile - or rather, the best he could make of one - on his handsome face. It made him that much more sentient than inhuman as everyone was saying he was now. It filled her heart with more hope, and how it made her melt internally. He must have meant every word he said about her being clever, beautiful and independent, and for a moment she thought so...

But then her mind snapped that he assumed she put herself in the place of Miana. "Like _me?_ " she repeated, laughing. "Oh, no, not like me at all. She is her own woman. And unknown at the time, Akihiro might have had a case of attraction towards her, and her to him, but it was not proper at the time. That same day, Sora arrived without Kaeden, to which the younger brother demanded he be taken to the cave, and Miana came with him. By the time Black Kuro and his men were gone, Kaeden's body was found strung up in the tree near the cave entrance as a warning to anyone else who dared to steal from them again. In his grief, Akihiro fell to his knees and blamed himself, despite Miana's pleas that it wasn't his fault. They took down the body for a proper burial, never mind that she was right that the thieves would return and find the corpse gone and know their victim had friends or loved ones, but this was Akihiro's brother and he did not deserve carnivorous birds picking at his flesh and bones.

"Kaeden had a great funeral attended by friends and family, the expenses paid for by his brother and Miana beside him. The event did not go unnoticed by the word of the Forty Thieves, for they noticed the amount of jewels and gold missing, ultimately coming to the conclusion Kaeden had help. They dug up his corpse to make sure it was the right man - and found the answer that someone who had just come into money afforded a lavish funeral such as this. They traveled in disguise into the city, discovering none other than his younger brother, Akihiro, who currently lived in Suriatia and on a cliff overlooking the sea. You see, Weyoun, robbers find nothing wrong in robbery - except when it happens to them. The consequences are most dire.

"Meanwhile, for Akihiro himself, he was living most happily in his life of new luxury, with Miana loyally caring for him and Sora the camel - but it was not entirely complete. 'It's good to be rich,' he said to the lovely young Miana, 'if only there was someone else to share it with.' He still felt guilty over the death of his brother and that some part of him did not deserve this happiness - but it was Miana who made him smile. Agreed with him everyone should have good fortune, and that someone else should share it with him."

She paused to look at Weyoun, seeing his nod and thoughtful expression that indeed good fortune should happen, even if not everyone had it. And it was never good to share it alone. The hackles of hope were back on the rise. "And Black Kuro and his rogues were hot on the trail," he stated, "in the meantime." He was such a wonderful listener.

"Yes, they decided by the next night that Akihiro and all he loved would be slaughtered. They traveled once more in disguise and returned to the city, to carry out their plan of attack. They walked up to the gates where to slaughter Akihiro - and everyone in his house."

It was then that she found her place to stop. Time seemed to go on forever when you engrossed in telling a story. Behind them both, the birds called in the distance, informing all that morning had come. The sun shone in from behind Weyoun's standing form, and the man himself had lost track of time himself, upon noticing that she stopped. Now was the good time to pause, for this was the next step. By pausing at the right time with a cliffhanger meant the audience would want more but had to wait. It was what left them on edge and hungry until next time. That was exactly what Weyoun needed.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, sounding almost out of breath after hearing this story which he had not thought he'd wanted to hear from the start.

She smiled softly. "Nothing, Weyoun."

"What happened to Akihiro, Miana and the others? What happened next?" he pressed, excitement apparently coming to life as she wanted. "Did Black Kuro kill them? Don't you _know_?"

"Of course I know. But I'm tired, and I'll pause for now until tomorrow night. It's already morning."

He whirled around and gasped in utter horror, seeing the life that was the sun. Taken up the planned time she was supposed to be killed; everything he planned had gone to waste today. "No, morning never comes well for me," he said to her. "It's an interference in my line of vision. Now, answer me: you won't go on?" he asked dangerously, narrowing his eyes.

Kilana shook her head, seeing the dark fire in those eyes. "Yes, I promise, but not now. Sunlight isn't the good atmosphere to tell a story. Darkness is always the best time. If you understand, dear husband."

The storm broke as quickly as the calm faded.

"It's a trick," Weyoun seethed, the crack breaking into an even larger one than before. "You're lying to me, just so you can save your own skin! You lousy, shameless temptress!" He was accusing her of manipulating him with her charm and grace, her stories, so she could get a pardon. She gasped in horror; this was not as easy as she'd thought, and now it seemed her time had come: she was going to die.

"NO!" Kilana found herself wrenched upwards by the arm and dragged off the bed. She fought against him, but he was much stronger. "Where are you taking me?!"

He dragged her down to the back of the bedchamber, to an elegantly gated back room. "I want you to meet somebody," he growled as he pushed the doors open -

\- and she was meeting face to face with Chief Executioner Yelgrun, with a pink silk rope in his hands. Her father had been right; she'd signed her death warrant. But she wouldn't give up. "Stay back, you bastard," she snarled through her burning tears, her lips pulling back with courage, but it only made him smile.

"Please, Madam Ambassador, if you stay calm," he said smoothly, "it will be quick and painless."

The rich fabric in his hands stretched thin and tight, powerful enough to break her fragile neck. There was only one way out, it seemed: Weyoun couldn't hear the rest of the story if he killed her. Without turning her entire back to the murderer hired by her own husband, Kilana kept her teeth bared and her sweet shell lowered to turn her face halfway to him behind her. "You won't know what became of Akihiro and Miana if you do this."

She would not cry or let her fears that echoed across the command center get back to the other girls below, or to the stoic Jem'Hadar, or let her weakness get the best of her now. If she had anything to say about this...

"Stand down, Yelgrun."

Her heart had been bursting so rapidly she thought it would explode...and then Weyoun had spoken. He ordered Yelgrun to back down and leave her. Was it a trick? Before Kilana could speak, she felt his hand on her shoulder, turning her body halfway around, but she looked him completely in the eyes. His entire face was unreadable, but his eyes were burning with violet fire.

"You will finish the story of Akihiro and the Forty Thieves tomorrow night," he told her, poisonously soft before it raised a level to a rough order. "Get out of my sight."

~o~

Damn himself for his accursed weakness!

Weyoun roared in rage and slammed an expensive vase from its stand as soon as he was far away from his bride and the executioner. Wherever she was going now, he did not care. She'd won this round, and he'd lost. The poisonous witch - she cursed him with her spell!

But she also held his interest with Akihiro, the poor young Vorta who had gotten lucky and made himself rich, but as a consequence, his brother was killed by the same vicious thieves he'd stolen from. Akihiro was a good man with down luck that changed with the guidance of some wise _ichiran_ camel, but the monsters he robbed were after him and the servant girl who harbored secret feelings for him - she must genuinely care for him that much despite the fact they were employer and employee. In reality, it would be socially unacceptable unless the employee himself or herself found means to let go of their position so that way it was acceptable. Weyoun shook his head; he must be overthinking this.

He had to know what this Black Kuro did to them; he _had_ to know.

Damn the enchantress for this.

He dismissed Yelgrun and the assistant, needing some time to think. He had duties to perform, which he would get to soon, but first a word with his advisor and father-in-law about his willful daughter. "Why did you allow your offspring to be my wife?" he demanded, rounding on the advisor who lifted his chin in response.

"I tried to talk her out of it -" he replied, but it made Weyoun's blood boil and erupt at once.

"You fool, I did NOT ask you that! She made me postpone all for a mere story!" he shouted. "Answer me now, Borath: WHY did you let her instead of some zenana girl like we discussed?!"

Borath glared at him with such disloyalty; it was disloyal in Weyoun's own eyes. His most trusted counselor had a part to play in this, and he needed to know. "Because she wanted to, Weyoun. You might not remember, but she was your playmate when you were children..."

He sighed in utter agitation, turning his back to the other Vorta altogether. "That's what she said."

"And it is true," Borath answered heatedly. "She wants to help you, that is all. She is nothing like _her_ , even if you do not see that now. Even if you do manage to execute her - my _daughter_ -" Weyoun gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes as he looked down at his reflection in the fountain near the veranda. "- then know she died trying to save you from this pool you are drowning yourself in."

~o~

Today she was back on the streets, this time in disguise with help from one of her maidservants. Laced up in plain brown silk and cloth with golden coins dangling in places, she scoured the streets of Maduraa, enjoying the sights and smells of ointments and foods around her - she was still alive long enough to enjoy this from afar, but she did not come here to enjoy the sights.

She had to see storyteller Deyos about her situation.

And so she told him everything, to which he nodded at the end. "I sit in the streets every day, telling stories, but if the audience isn't interested in what I have to say..." He shrugged. "...then there is nothing I can do about that. It only walks away. However, in your case, if your audience isn't interested, you're dead," he added somberly.

Kilana nodded grimly. It had only gotten even more challenging than she'd thought, but she had come too far to give up now or to die. She promised her father she would not get killed. And come to think of it, Weyoun might not ever have it in him to have her killed. Who knew what he was doing right now or talking to her father about; she fervently hoped it had to do with _her_ at some point. "I thought it would be easy, but it isn't," she admitted. "I...almost lost before I got started. I hooked Weyoun when we got to Black Kuro..."

"As I told you before," Deyos answered eagerly, "the first moments are _vital._ You paused at good points, yes, now in which the thieves hide out in Suriatia to kill Akihiro, but sneaking in _how_?" His eyes glittered with excitement. Excitement she instilled in her husband before it was gone immediately.

"A caravan."

This made him frown and shake his head in minor displeasure. "Too common, my child. It has to be something more...exotic. Tomorrow night you will pick up where you left off, but you have to hook the ambassador again." He leaned forward. "Let me tell you a story. Last night I was walking the streets exactly one hour after sundown, when I came face to face...with death."

Her lungs felt tighter than before, as though the air had been drawn out by bare hands until her world turned dark. "Did death...come for you?" she whispered, assuming it was a Vorta in black as it was prone these days. Deyos grinned at her.

"You see? You're _hooked._ "

Indeed she was. Now she knew she had to think of a way to carry out the manner in which Black Kuro and his men came to Akihiro's home. But, as ever, her father still was not convinced when she told him later that night.

"He's still insane, and he will still kill you," Borath was telling her. "No matter me telling the childhood truth for your part. He doesn't believe me in the slighest, and this story of yours will not do the trick as I have been telling you!" He lowered his voice in case anyone, the Jem'Hadar especially, heard their conversation. "I can make arrangements for your escape..."

Kilana held her hand up to him. Fleeing never made a damned thing better. "It's too late, Father. If I run away, not only will he punish you, but he'll pick a poor girl from the zenana. If I keep making him listen to my stories as planned, he _will_ change."

However, her voice sounded like it was doubtful unlike her earlier confidence. And her father noticed this. "You don't sound as certain as you did before."

"I'm not." And if Akihiro did not do the trick, then she didn't know what else.

Her mind clicked then. It was another that her mother had told her when she was a young one, and one that was the perfect blend of tragedy and comedy, but the latter dominated much of the former. Hopefully Weyoun would love that one.

~o~

She was still alive only to tell him the last of Akihiro and tomorrow morning she would die. Weyoun would not waste another minute, but he could also never let go of the conversation he and Borath had.

She had been a childhood playmate of his, but how could he not remember? She still claimed the ring she wore on her right hand was from his mother, and that he'd given it to her, and he could faintly recall a little only now. That ring had been a wedding gift to his mother from his father, but then she died and left it to her son to give to _Borath's daughter_ whom she loved like her own, never mind that the girl wasn't royalty. She and Weyoun barely reached teenage years when she...left for Delhati for schooling years. She must have gotten one great education there, for he knew the island and the city fond of its distinctive education system, music and art, and so many great assets. However, population wise, it was mildly larger than Maduraa.

Weyoun wanted so much to believe the story from father and daughter, but why couldn't he? Unless there was proof somewhere in Headquarters...

He would have to look at that another time, _if_ permitted that Kilana followed through in pleasing him with the last of the story. But her very presence reminded him too much of Luaran - except she was in no way like Luaran with this. His late wife had never expressed interest in folklore and tales like this, never entertained her husband except in the art of desire all of which proved to be false.

His second wife now arrived that night, and upon seeing her, Weyoun thought his throat had been caught. She was gowned in flowing panels of pale pink and gold to flaunt her innocence, and around her neck ropes of gold. She stood before him, regal and firm but soft at the same time. He could never forget her fierce courage as she stood up to him and Yelgrun. She was stronger than Luaran ever was, he would grant her that compliment. "As I was saying last time," Kilana stated, getting right to the point, "Black Kuro and his men came in a caravan, but not any ordinary caravan; it was one full of great jars of what were passed off to carry oil."

He had been sipping more tulaberry wine when he couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous notion of forty men hiding in jars on a wagon. Really, what nonsense! But clever all the same. This Black Kuro had a black heart to match his name. "But naturally," his wife added, "Akihiro had absolutely _no_ idea of the danger he was in. Miana, however, was the one to save his life in the end. He should have trembled, but she did not. On that night, she was outside with Sora the camel confessing her love for him only to fear he did not love her. Even though Sora was only an animal, she understood the young maiden's worry; she also agreed on the fact Akihiro was just a dreamer who didn't see the real picture in front of him, that he needed protection." Weyoun had to agree there; how could you live life blind to the truth in front of you? Just as he had been in his first marriage.

"The caravan of jars was parked outside, which Miana noticed in the event of time. But not before she came to her employer's study and learned that he had plans of making money regarding these new supplies of beetles found in the desert part of the island, that it had been only luck that he was rich as he was now. He knew he would not stay lucky all his life. Miana noticed the parked caravan outside and learned from the other servants that it was a merchant selling jars of oil for the palace, staying the night after a long journey, which made Miana suspicious. Upon needing more oil for the lamp gone out and that there was no more in the house, she ventured out into the night - only to hear voices within and plots to kill her, Akihiro and the others in the estate. It was then that it dawned on Miana these were the same robbers her Aki stole the gold and jewels from. She knew then and there she had to tell him and find means to stop these rogues once and for all."

Her eyes were glinting then, filled with excitement that she had gotten to the best part. Weyoun's core thrummed, not just from the effects of the wine, but the thrill that the villains were being taken out. She was a master teller, leaving him on edge and enrapturing him with that soothing voice of hers. It made him wonder if she learned to do so in Delhati, or if she was a natural.

"Upon warning him, she had the most brilliant idea, and with Aki's help and the other servants, they released the jars from the caravan and sent them all rolling out into the streets, screaming and arousing the attention of the residents in the streets, down the hills. All of them but Black Kuro were caught and eventually executed. Lined up and shot by the Jem'Hadar, ten at a time in a single day by the time the week was over. All of them were then burned in a vast pyre that reached the heavens with a torrid smell of rotting flesh and charring bones.

"It was all over," Kilana told him with a smile, leaning against the lotus pillar, looking up at the ceiling as if in a sweet daydream, then returned her attention to him and added, "but it wasn't the end. Akihiro decided to throw a grand party to celebrate the victory, with the exception of the ringleader himself still missing. Nevertheless, he had a famous attractor who entertained all on Kurill Prime. And the joker was not the only one to perform for Aki; Miana was a beautiful dancer that Akihiro never knew, and so she demonstrated, climbing to her feet and standing in the middle of an opened circle, wearing burgundy velvet and golden coins with her magnificent black mane free about. Dancing like this..."

Her hips were swaying side to side as though drums were actually playing; she must be a brilliant dancer, as he was just now learning this based on what he watched. Her arms flailed over her head before gracing in front of her and swirling in a whirl with the rest of her body. She dipped and swirled, flicked her wrists back and forth as though unscrewing something from a power source, alternating back to the gentle flailing of the arms and her gyrating hips, which he took note as the gossamer around her body flared, showing off a curve here and there...

The pace seemed to have picked up as she began to pump faster, her upper body flaring and swishing that Weyoun's attention seemed to be more focused now on her body rather than the dance or the story itself...

He heard himelf scream aloud and felt himelf jerk back after she threw her hands at him, closed around an invisible weapon and striking him. For the moment, he let himself down in the enchantment and thought she used her dance to distract him so she could pull a secret weapon from her gown's confides, but nothing was there. His heart exploded with the fear come alive - but it was all in his imagination.

"In the midst of her dance, Miana," Kilana breathed harshly, her eyes wide and wild with the aftermath of her frenzied samba, "pulled the sword from the belt of the entertainer once he was most vulnerable and susceptible to her beauty as Akihiro was, she stabbed him in the heart in front of the man she loved and all their guests. The last words the dying man spoke were 'That's not funny; not funny at all'. And it certainly wasn't; business had never been more serious. When he fell back, the sleeve of his right arm drew back to reveal the black marking on his wrist where his pulse throbbed but now ceased forever. It was Black Kuro in disguise, and Miana had spotted long in the distance and once again saved Akihiro's life. This was the moment he proclaimed he would not live without her, that he loved her - and asked her to marry him," Kilana finished with a proud smile. "It was a happy ending for them."

 **Whoo, it was a fun story. :D But that's only the beginning. Kilana has more to tell her suffering husband, so stay tuned. Read and review, as usual.**


	4. The Poor Hunchback Vorta

**If anybody wants to see the 2000 Arabian Nights, it is on YouTube. :) None of you will be disappointed with the jewel which set this story's foundation.**

Chapter Four

The Poor Hunchback Vorta

Convincing her husband to let her join him in the bath had not been easy. Notably because he wanted no physical contact with her in any way. She had wanted to do this because they were married and it was natural for husband and wife to see each other naked; she'd had it in her to see him from a distance as he disrobed, and she felt herself flush when she beheld the sight of his strong back, his thighs and buttock muscles all looking like they were carved from ivory stone.

The very sight of her Weyoun's nude body made her rush heatedly between her thighs.

He was _beautiful_.

He was a GOD. A god walking amongst the mortals in solid form.

She had to turn her face away before he saw her watching him, and when he was done, he announced to her he was in the water and ready for her. Turning back around, Kilana informed him she was getting out of her dress. He turned his face away as if the idea of his wife joining him in the bath repulsed him; he was trying not to become physically enchanted by her, because of his first wife. It made Kilana hurt that he didn't want to look at her, but she couldn't force him to see her naked body which soon subsided itself into the warm, spice-scented water. Her breasts and lower regions tingled pleasantly that she couldn't help but moan, drawing the attention of Weyoun.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently. Kilana shrugged.

"It's a nice bath."

"Hmmph." His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. "Would this be anything like the...ones we took as children?"

Sarcasm laced his words, but Kilana pretended she didn't hear. "You remember now?" she asked lightly, shifting her position so only the tops of her breasts were showed, but that wasn't her intention; it was the best she could make for herself so she was more comfortable.

"Only slightly," Weyoun answered, "but I have yet to see full proof as to whether or not you and your father are telling the truth." He grimaced as though smelling something bad. "But right now, there is the matter of Akihiro and Miana - they wed and lived happily as you put it. He wasn't clever, but he was _lucky_ ," he bit out. "I'm sure he...needed someone like her to make the most of it."

Kilana played with the water in front of her out of habit. She bit her lip thoughtfully before agreeing. "Something like that." Just as he needed _her_ to make the most of his own life, whether he wanted to admit it or not. "He could have befriended a man, but she proved a very good wife, Weyoun. She was his first and his last love."

A brief silence passed before he spoke. "I suppose...it could happen, but not likely." His first union with Luaran wasn't of his own will, having been arranged by his late father, and it was not true love. Kilana believed he must have allowed his heart to get the best of him, and love made you not see certain things. But it was only the first time, "beginner's luck" as the healer said. It didn't always happen, but -

"Just because you had a bad experience once doesn't mean it'll happen again," she told him carefully, but even her soft words did not calm his anger and bitterness.

" _Bad_?" he spat. "Do you know what she tried to do to me? I loved her, and she _betrayed_ me! She tried to KILL ME!"

Kilana lowered her eyes. Luaran was a wicked sorceress who did get what she deserved even if it was accidental, but Weyoun must have still possessed a heart to still care for her. Death did not change anything, even if your mate was buried six feet under or cremated on the mantel. None of what she did matter, not only because she was dead now, but because if you loved someone, you could forgive them for anything.

She wanted Weyoun to love her now as much as she knew she loved him, wanted him to see she was nothing like Luaran.

~o~

He would always hate Luaran, no matter what. Kilana had seen that he still loved his first wife, and he despised it. He loathed being transparent to anyone else other than Borath. His daughter was just like him in that respect.

Bad experience, she said - BAD?! Luaran used him and tried to murder him. She deserved everything she got and he would never forgive her for this. But... _if you love someone that much, you can forgive them for anything._

He ducked his head underwater, closing his eyes and wanting to be alone, wishing Kilana would disappear altogether and everything she said to him, but it would never leave him alone. His mind was in too much oblivion to shut out anything from her. She did a fine job getting to him that it became harder more and more to kill her tomorrow. Her story of the love of Akihiro and Miana - it was how it should have been with Luaran, what it _should_ have been. The couple loved each other just as equal, she saved his life from the black beasts of the desert, and he got everything he ever wanted even if he lost someone in the process. The tale ended well for him.

But how could someone like Weyoun, ambassador of the Dominion, be so unhappy yet have so much? When Akihiro started out poor and got lucky with his dreams coming true? Unlike he, Weyoun had been born into wealth and inherited it. He was arranged into a marriage unlike Aki.

Weyoun opened his eyes in spite of himself and found himself looking underwater to see gloom and light rays casting - and a goddess' body before him. The sight surprised him altogether when he realized it was _Kilana._ He couldn't put the right words to mind, but she looked nothing like Luaran who was rather slim and barely sporting such luscious curves...

And then the figure moved, vanishing upwards and from his line of vision entirely. She was stepping out of the bath, ultimately leaving him alone. This was also Weyoun's cue to leave. "Is that the end of the story?" he asked, seeing her put on her sheer robe, to which he glimpsed outlines of certain parts of her sensitive body but not everything.

"No," she answered, turning around to face him. "There was also...Feydon and his wife, Zafina, from Consagiran Province not that far from the city and its surrounding mountains. Both Vorta themselves. They were at the wedding of Akihiro and Miana. Feydon himself was the one who designed Miana's wedding dress - pure white silk with beautiful silver embellishments. He was one of the best tailors on the island country. But both him and his wife looked like they were...stuffed with a good taxidermist," she added with a slight laugh. "And at the wedding, they met an extraordinary friend they hadn't seen for years: a hunchback of a Vorta, and his name was..." She paused there, as though trying to figure out whether or not the name was appropriate enough to tell, or if he would find it ridiculous. Having experience with hunchbacks and jokers in his life, Weyoun knew he would tolerate this character.

And when Kilana answered, he found himself laughing now. "Bac-Bac."

"Bac-Bac," he repeated, still chuckling and fastening his robe around him. "Good name. So, about him?"

"Bac-Bac liked it, too, and in fact, he liked most things about himself - even his hump. You do not see this feature with Vorta any day, or every day even. Our people are so perfect in features that nothing is ever tarnished. Anyway, without it, he might not have become the Prime Minister's favorite jester. He entertained everyone with jokes of how he loved his family, and how they were wanted for nothing - except his uncle who was wanted for bigamy and murder."

The joke made him burst out into laughter that she joined him, his lungs burning that he had trouble breathing by the time it was over and she continued. "Feydon and Zafina invited Bac-Bac for supper back in Consagiran Province, where he entertained them - and it ended badly. At some point, he ended up choking and collapsed at the dinner table. At first, the couple thought it was one of his jokes before Zafina did the honors of checking him herself. He had choked on a fish bone...and died right away."

Weyoun stiffened. It dawned on him she was telling him a whole new story entirely now. His rage bubbled that she must be steering him away again, but at the same time, this story was so funny he had to hear it. Maybe if he could calm himself down and not explode this time - keep himself calm as her death would come eventually even if for one more day - he would let her finish the story of "poor little Bac-Bac". "What happened when Zafina tried to revive him?" he demanded, clenching his fists.

"The couple was fearful of their reputation and the authorities blaming them even though it was only an accident, given he _was_ the Prime Minister's favorite joker," Kilana answered, taking the tray of tulaberry wine from the manservant coming to them, handing his to him, which Weyoun accepted and was thirsty to his core. "They ultimately decided to let someone else take the blame and leave Bac-Bac's body on the doorstep of their neighbor, a physician named Eiran, and his wife. But before he could have his chance to examine his newest 'patient' closer, he trips and drags Bac-Bac with him, and eventually repeats the notion that he assumed he killed the jester. The cycle goes on when they drop the body down the rooftop fireplace of a martial arts master - until the final was a drunkard who believed he was being attacked just like the martial arts fighter thought he was being robbed, and the authorities caught on and apprehended the drunk. He was put on trial for the murder he did not commit, and the judge who oversaw his verdict was incompetent, yet no one spoke against him.

"He was sentenced to be shot, but the others ridden with their guilt decided they could not let an innocent man die for their 'crime', and all spoke up their arguments, saying they 'killed poor Bac-Bac', confusing the judge at once. Until the timely arrival of the Prime Minister himself, demanding to know which of them killed his prized joker who had been the light in their lives...and the decision was none of them, stating that 'it was an accident. Besides being my jester, Bac-Bac was also my friend, and if I'd known him right, I'd say he'd appreciate the manner of his death. It was his...final jest.' It was then that the entire court erupted into laughter, and so all the 'guilty' were let off the hook," Kilana finished with a broad grin, giggling.

Weyoun wanted to laugh, but he needed to know if it was the end of the story. "N-not quite," she started, and he erupted once again. She tried his patience far too many times.

"DAMN YOU!" he bellowed. "You're trying to trick me again!"

She glared at him reproachfully, the first time he finally saw some countermeasure instead of passivity. He wondered if she would go far to the physical level soon enough. "I'm not, I swear to the Founders," she returned. "Master Deyos said that every good story has a moral, and this one for Bac-Bac's death is to take responsibility for your actions. That's what Feydon, Dr. Eiran and the others did. Bac-Bac didn't take responsibility because his sense of humor prevented it."

But even if they did, Bac-Bac wouldn't have fulfilled his destiny to make people laugh even if he was dead. "That's true," she answered when he spoke this. "Stories are all less simple than we think they are. This new story -"

He did NOT want to hear anymore stories. Weyoun screamed and grabbed his hair before pulling it hard enough to draw blood at the roots. Never mind Yelgrun, he wanted to kill her now. "You shameless -!" he thundered, rounding on her only for her to stand up and surprise him altogether, her palm cracking across his face and stinging his flesh.

The act stunned him altogether.

"Don't you even try," she snarled, like a snake in the trees. "I'm your wife, whether you want me or not, and you will in no way put your hands on me or even dare TALK to me like that."

No one had EVER laid a hand on him before, not even his mother or even Luaran - and no one ever spoke to him like that, either. No one did anything physical to put him in his place. His father never did that either. He had no idea what to think of this right now, and his fury ebb softened altogether to become a calm ocean once again.

Kilana's gasp was clear in his ears. "I'm...sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have done that...please forgive me, Weyoun..."

 _Forgive me..._

Luaran never asked him to forgive her for anything. No one ever asked him for any form of forgiveness for their actions. He knew Yelgrun was watching from his hiding place, perhaps closing his eyes at the fact that his master failed to strike his bride. If Gelnon saw him now, he would call his brother weak as he was prone to do when they were younger.

"What's the matter, husband?"

Weyoun felt his eyes burn with tears that he didn't want to come, but he couldn't help it. Why was she doing this to him? He wanted her dead, didn't want to be burdened with any of this, and the only reason he allowed her to live was because of her entertaining tales that had the morals and lessons on life, even if not all of them ended as real life would. "What can I do for you?" Kilana pressed.

He shook his head. He couldn't even kill her, and all she could do was ask if there was something she could do for him. She was concerned for him, now that he could see it in her eyes. He wanted her to be concerned for herself, not him. Her very life threatened by his hand, but she was still here. He closed his eyes, wishing he could vanish - but then he felt her hand on his.

"Look at me right now, Weyoun," she ordered. He obeyed, only to see her lavender eyes burning into his, but her face was ever passive. "I'm not afraid to tell you this, and I'm saying it because I mean it. Whether you remember me or not is irrelevant, but it does not matter. I married you because I love you, and I am nothing like HER. You don't have to forgive her, and I see it now. I am here, not her. She never knew you like me, same on your part. You do not frighten me, Weyoun, and your executioner certainly does not frighten me."

~o~

She'd struck him.

She'd struck her husband when he threatened to kill her yet again - what had she _done?_

What was necessary, her mind told her. He was haunted by the memory of his late wife's backstab, but to harbor such wicked thoughts for the rest of his life was not fulfilling. She knew that to keep her love from him by means of not telling him would not work any longer. Knowing him, he would end up evaluating her words until tomorrow night when she picked up with the next one she had in mind. Already, she gave him an adventure story as well as a comedy, but right now another meeting with Deyos was in order. She would keep up with these meetings for however long was necessary. His advice was the universe to her.

She could never stop thinking about the tears that he was visibly fighting back, either. It showed to her that the human - figuratively speaking - part of him was there, that he still had his conscience to not strangle her himself. She knew what his brother was like, who could very much be the executioner's friend; Weyoun did not even sink to that level. He was more of a man than Gelnon ever was.

Weyoun didn't need to forgive his previous mate; he needed to forgive _himself_. Or rather, if you don't forgive the one who wronged you, they held power over you. The best way to go was to free himself from her hold for his own sake - and that was by allowing himself to love again. To get to that point, Kilana's stories were in order, however many there needed to be. Weyoun had so far delayed the execution, but she saw he was conflicted about continuing or letting her live after all.

There might be hope yet, as she kept telling herself.

"You spoke before about meeting death," she told Deyos over a shared bowl of various fruits. He nodded, doing as she'd done as of late picking up where she left off. She had lately been dwelling, too, about whether or not his time to die was coming, or if this was merely a tale he was giving her to help her in her journey.

"I didn't meet him exactly; I only passed him on the street. When I told a close friend what had happened, he said that he had seen death on the street - and that death gave him a terrible look. He was so frightened he was leaving for Delhati that night. I went to see death to find out what was going on."

"And?" Kilana probed, piqued on a much higher level. Somehow if this paralleled to her situation, then it was means of telling her that while she faced death at every corner herself, she would always be given the chance to live and fight another day. Suppose this was the situation with this great man in front of her that she needed to know.

Deyos held his hand up with a slight smile. "Another time perhaps. In the meantime, you yourself must learn to leave your audience in _suspense_..."

 **Bac-Bac was the name of the hunchbacked jester, and I couldn't change it. XD I also couldn't think of anything better to fit the Vorta language.**

 **At the end of the Bac-Bac story, Shahryar lost his temper when Scheherazade tried to begin the next and grabbed his sword, screaming in rage and slashing the bed but missing her entirely. I thought her too calm and passive to return any gesture that Kilana is nowhere near that manner to deal with her distraught spouse. A slap was in order before an apology to restrain him and then soft words, which Scheherazade also used.**


	5. Keevan and the Magic Lamp

**It should be obvious which of my favorite Vorta now has become the hero of one of my favorites of the Arabian Nights. :D I always knew he was perfect for the role of Aladdin even when I first saw the 2000 miniseries. He does fit the roguish role. ;D I also could not find a better word for the lamp in Vorta tongue, so I left it as it was.**

Chapter Five

Keevan and the Magic Lamp

 _"Weyoun, come with me!"_

 _This tree was his father's favorite, with its amber trunk and curving stature, the branches blossoming with pastel pink and bearing the ripe fruits of q'lavas. He had climbed it many times before, but it was often against his mother's worry wishes so he would not get hurt again - but this time,_ she _insisted on climbing. "Kilana," he called up as he watched from the ground, her colored skirt swishing out behind her, "I don't know if this is a good idea."_

 _She laughed lightly, music to his ears. "It won't be so terrible. I've climbed trees before, remember?"_

 _He could only shrug. They were both only nine years of age, and yet unlike most races, their brain stem intelligence was far more advanced to grow. Learning came with making mistakes, their instructors always told them. His father might not punish them both, hers as well, in case one of them got hurt from falling again. So he stood by and watched as she continued to climb - until it happened so fast, and she was on the grassy earth, screaming as though she was being murdered. In a flash, he was beside her and helping her sit up as he inspected any injuries she might have sustained, or even a broken bone somewhere..._

 _And then he saw it: her knee was scraped and bleeding. He sighed and shook his head. He would have to do this himself if only to not excite the attention of his father or the physician. He hated seeing her in pain and wanted to clean this up the best he could. If there was one thing his mother taught him herself, it was that you should always help someone in need and never cause suffering of any kind. Both friends and enemies alike._

~o~

He sat up then, panting and breathing heavily. He had fallen asleep at his desk, unable to remember the last time he did this - or when he had a decent rest without dreaming back to that terrible night. Instead he had a decent one.

Or should he say _memory?_

The perspiration was coursing from his forehead and down his face. His blood pressure was erratic that it passed on throughout his system and he thought he was going to die of a heart attack that was inevitable. He remembered now - he remembered _everything._

He and Kilana had been born at the same time, twins in all but bloodline, and they spent the majority of their childhood in the gardens of Headquarters before they went their separate ways; she was sent off to Delhati, which had also been confirmed in the records. A few years ago she returned but not to the headquarters where her father still served. Before she decided to marry Weyoun, she had lived with her father and oversaw his care as he was her responsibility. As far as anyone else knew, she had never been with any man or even cared to look for one. Why? No one knew, but according to Borath, she was as innocent as the whitest flower of Kurill.

He had thought Borath was lying about his daughter, but he never lied to Weyoun before, _ever_. And both he and Kilana had spoken the truth about _this._

He was more confused than ever. Why would Kilana say she loved him after he thought to have her put to death? No one ever said those words and meant it; Luaran said it, but obviously it was all false - and once more, no one ever struck his face and subdued him the way Kilana did; he could still feel the impact and the fire it left in his flesh, still lingering. Nor could he forget her words: _"I'm not afraid to tell you this, and I'm saying it because I mean it. Whether you remember me or not is irrelevant, but it does not matter. I married you because I love you, and I am nothing like HER. You don't have to forgive her, and I see it now. I am here, not her. She never knew you like me, same on your part. You do not frighten me, Weyoun, and your executioner certainly does not frighten me."_

He didn't scare her, which made him feel only a little less afraid of her now.

Barely even a week passed since he wed Kilana, but never consummated. Never shared a bed with her in the traditional manner, either. She never tried to seduce him either, which he knew was the definite manner of a chaste Vorta. But seduction could come in many forms...he stopped those thoughts right then and there. "You're overanalyzing again, Ambassador. You always have. Weyoun, you used to be such a clear thinker, but now your pain has overcome your judgment as of late," Borath was telling him now. "It's a pity that my daughter has not yet soothed your wounds...but I see now that you believe the both of us."

Weyoun said nothing but nodded. Somehow, a light weight had come off his shoulders that a small part of him began to relax and wonder what Kilana had to share with him by the next night.

~o~

"As the crowd was leaving the Great Ruins of the region Kaldathia, the greatest magician from the Dosi homeworld, easily recognizable and standing out amongst Vorta. His name was Nafaru, and even though he was painted fierce red etched with the markings of his tribe, he was also charismatic with piercing eyes, a seductive voice as well as a manner that would freeze you within twenty paces, maybe less," Kilana told Weyoun. "He traveled to the region of the Delhati island for his own means unknown, but he is not the story's hero."

"And who is it?"

She smiled, showing her teeth. "Keevan, a young Vorta male who lived in the streets and survived off of pick-pocketing for both himself and his mother. One day, after losing a bet on a race of _uman_ stallions, took his backup plan to 'accidentally' run into a wealthy Vorta nobleman whose pouch of latinum he snuck with his clever hands - only to be discovered at the hearing of a robbery. The authorities - a pair of Jem'Hadar - caught on right away, but he ran and fled for the alleyways, hiding from the pursuing soldiers until the heels were cooled down. This was the way his life lived, as he was born from a family of poor rogues. His father before him had been shot down, however, by the authorities when he was but a boy. Anyway, it was this day that Keevan's life began to change, starting with when he ran out into the streets of Kaldathia in front of a caravan of red and gold - and the curtain drew open to show the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

"Princess Eris, daughter of the Emperor Zairn. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and never before did Keevan think he would fall in love. His mother had constantly pushed him to find a woman to give her grandchildren, but her son was too arrogant, shall we say, to devote himself to a family of his own he could not provide for with the lifestyle they lived. But his life and perspective changed altogether when he laid his eyes on the beautiful princess," Kilana said with a dreamy sigh and closed her eyes briefly. "And from the way she was looking at him, it was very clear she had fallen in love with him, too. It's a classic case of...love at first sight."

Weyoun snorted. "Love at first sight? He must be a fool. It got me there, too," he stated.

She shook her head. "Maybe not always the case for most eventual couples, but with Keevan and Eris, it certainly was. However," she added with a lift of a finger, "he was snapped back to reality when the authorities were getting closer and closer that he had to climb to the topmost rooftop to stay and hide until the fire cooled down, and he could go back home to his mother with the stolen latinum. Unknown to him, Princess Eris watched as he evaded capture and possible death sentence for thievery, with a smile on her face.

"It was also on the very same rooftop he encountered the great Nafaru, who had been keeping his keen eyes on the young man and seeing his great talents to pick-pocket. Nafaru's eyes saw even greater things than anyone ever saw. Of course, Keevan was wary and demanded how he knew who he was, to which the magician himself claimed to have known his late father, stating certain things about him - counting how 'crooked he was he could hide within a corkscrew'. This made Keevan ease up and lead himself to believe it, but he was always cautious and calm that he could not trust the strange man entirely...but he could not resist a payment. Nafaru knew his desire to become rich - like Akihiro in the second to last tale before him - and offered to pay him a substantial price if only to perform an errand for him that required Keevan's skills. Shady business, the sorcerer confessed, but profitable, something that Keevan could not ignore either. But he would not learn what his task would be until tomorrow at dawn, when he would meet the ever mysterious man at the city gates which would lead out into the countryside and small mountain terrains.

"Keevan was given twenty strips of latinum as a token of good faith, he was told. His mother, the ever lovely Haila despite her age, was still the best pick-pocketer as her young adult son was. She was just as cautious and never knew Nafaru before even when her husband lived, but let her Keevan go about his duty for both of their sakes. By the next morning, Nafaru took him out into the valley in the mountains, where the river Eucharus ran wild and roaring but crisp and clean. Keevan still did not trust the strange Dosi, but when money was involved, he was indeed prepared to take a few risks - and this one would become the greatest one he undertook in his life."

"And if Nafaru was so powerful, why did he need _Keevan's_ help?" Weyoun spat, folding his arms across his chest.

"You see, Keevan asked the same thing," Kilana answered, picking on the end of her skirt out of habit. "And the Dosi answered that it was because all power has limits. He wanted the young Vorta to...retrieve an object for him from a tomb near the river - an old lamp. 'I can't get it myself,' he said, 'because of reasons too complicated, and it has to do with my magic. I picked you because I saw the gift in your soul, simple as that.' And so they arrived near the end of the journey of the river, on a raised ground area moister than the rest of the land, which opened at Nafaru's command, showing a pit of endless darkness, but a landing platform and stairs clear for Keevan to enter, jumping from the top of the cave, not before Nafaru gave him a ring - a very powerful ring which he would need in case of desperate situations. However, before giving Keevan this ring, Nafaru warned that if he betrayed him in any way, then the Vorta would not live to see the light of day. This ring was a radiation of power and authority that a man knew what he could achieve, for it was a rich blue sapphire set in a band of etched silver. The price had been set at two hundred strips of latinum, but he was given only one half - a hundred strips - and Keevan grew even more suspicious that it was given to him so easily, but if he wanted the other half, then he needed to carry out what was asked of him.

"The cave was a mouth in the earth, and an observant eye had to see the eyes and nose before the black mouth. Keevan truly had no idea what kind of trouble he was getting himself into, but if he _had_ , he would have taken the two hundred entirely and run like his life depended on it. On the other hand, he probably would. But instead, he ventured deep into the cave where he encountered a great army of stone, their blank and unnerving eyes and raised weapon trained on him, chilling him to the bone and making his flesh crawl. Nevertheless, he continued through the darkness that he managed to make his way through...until he found what he was looking for: the lamp. Old as it appeared, he automatically assumed it was worth nothing despite Nafaru's words. He took it from the restful hands of the laid down preserved body of the emperor centuries ago, but as a result of the disturbance, the whole protective army began to move forward and signal that his doom was coming for disturbing the peace. He ran as fast as he could with the lamp in his arms, not stopping until he climbed to the top of the stairs where his life depended on it." She could feel her own heart ramming against her sternum as she knew the effect it was giving both her and her husband who looked just as worried.

"Nafaru wanted the lamp first, but Keevan knew the trick that the trickster would leave him down there to rot and take the last of the money. Enraged because of the young rogue's refusal to trust him, Nafaru commanded the cave entrance to close on Keevan and leave him to die. Costing him the lamp he traveled all the way for, of course. It was a crisis for the Vorta himself, but in a crisis, there was nothing more effective than magic, and the good thing was that Keevan still carried the one thing that Nafaru gave him: the ring. He had been told to rub the magnificent stone three times, and when he did, out burst the most magnificent if not so bright being imaginable - the djinni of the ring. Bubbly and filled with life like an average Vorta in our existence, filled with power and granting any wish you want, but all Keevan wanted was to get out; in exchange, the djinni himself wanted to be freed, which Keevan could not grant at the time as he had no idea how to. But once he was saved from the collapsing cave, he proceeded to head home to mother Haila, where they both wondered what the treacherous Nafaru wanted of a seemingly worthless old lamp. Rubbing it, freed was yet another djinni - the djinni of the lamp, not the one of the ring, but one far more powerful than the last. He could grant more powerful wishes than the ring djinni ever would, and anything your heart desired.

"That was the beginning of it all," she told Weyoun excitedly, pleased with his reaction that he was not impatient and ready to call Yelgrun or to drag her off again. "Keevan, a rogue, a son of a rogue from a _family_ of rogues, awoke something of great potency and vowed to get everything he ever wanted...and all he had to do was ask."

Weyoun hadn't realized he'd held his breath, from the looks of it, until he exhaled sharply and looked behind him. "I want to know what he asked for," he spoke, thrumming with the thrills, "but I think I know the drill now. Tell me more...tomorrow night, Kilana."

What had just happened? He had lately blown up with her delays, her beauty and her distractions - and now he was patient and eager to wait until tomorrow night? She had no idea what to say, so she reached out and took his hand into hers. To her surprise, he did not object to the simple act of affection...the first sign of established trust between them.

~o~

Gelnon was inside his set up tent, and at work on the latest progress of the army setting up perimeters near the city of Maduraa, when he looked up and the First announced he had a visitor from Headquarters. "Chief Executioner," he gasped, amazed. "What brings you here?"

"Captain," Yelgrun answered, "in his sickness, your brother Ambassador Weyoun, planned to kill his bride _after_ the wedding."

The Vorta captain of the finest Jem'Hadar army closed his eyes. Yes, this was what he always wanted to see: to see his brother Weyoun fall and crumble into millions of pieces, beginning with his wife Luaran who always belonged to Gelnon, but it had been their father's will when he passed. And now, Weyoun would have murdered another wife to spare himself more infidelities, not that it would have made a difference. He was driven MAD...oh, to see his face...

"But he can't bring himself to finish the job, and I can't without his order," Yelgrun went on, crushing his spirits at once. "The madam ambassador is still alive. Even more, she is the daughter of his Chief Advisor."

He hissed with pleasure shooting through his body. That was even better; not only was his brother insane, but he was also weak, and people were weak when they were mad. He grew irritated when he learned that Yelgrun was not here on behalf of his master, or even to protect him, but to protect his own interests. Because Weyoun was too soft to kill, the executioner was out of work - but Gelnon on the other hand, never shrunk away from the use of rope, phaser or blade of any kind. To see the life drained from the eyes of the victim and enemy in the same word was always a delight. When he disposed of his weakling brother and he became ambassador - and his beautiful, clever bride with him - then there would be an execution post and Jem'Hadar soldier on every corner, and Yelgrun would have plenty of work.

It would be a golden age to behold.

They would prepare to march on Maduraa soon. When Yelgrun and the men were gone, he was left to go over to the private curtained area where he set up a preservation of a tomb for the one he ever loved who was taken from him on the night they failed to sabotage Weyoun. Wearing black velvet and silver beads and coin dripping off like tears, her face was covered with a sheer black veil so he could still see her face which looked more asleep than dead. This face he would never let be buried six feet under for all eternity. After the funeral, he had his men dig the earth and pull her from her resting place.

Leaning over, Gelnon placed a kiss upon the cold, dead lips of Luaran. "We will be avenged, my love," he whispered.

~o~

"The djinni was laughing when Keevan asked him what he could do, and as I said last time, it was anything he desired from the depths of his heart. To demonstrate, the wishmaster himself casted a storm over the house, even proclaiming himself as Keevan's - his new master - humble and obedient servant as long as he possesses the lamp. But unlike the ring djinni, this one was far more...hardened and dark, promised to betray him at anytime if Keevan did one thing wrong - even allow someone else to ensnare the lamp, no matter on purpose or not. His face was covered with the ancient symbols of the curse of Solamon."

"Contracted to turn against his master at any time," Weyoun repeated, nodding in understanding. It rarely happened within the Dominion as he held it together solid, but no djinnis in existence like the case with Keevan. He smirked and shook his head. "His 'high and exalted mortal master'."

Kilana giggled. "Exactly what the djinni called him. And once the introductions were made and the rainstorm stopped at Keevan's request, now he and Mother Haila could ask the djinni whatever he wanted that he knew he would never regret. The wish was the one thing they both fought long and hard for in their lineage: latinum. But anyone else could wish for money and riches, as Akihiro himself did, but there was the one woman Keevan wanted most: the Princess Eris, the emperor's daughter. He never knew her except seeing her across the street, to which both his mother and the djinni laughed at his desire to want a woman he could not have. But Keevan knew in his heart it WAS love. Nevertheless," she said with a finger held up, "the djinni stated crystal clear that he could give his master things, but when it came to the matters of the Vorta heart, he was powerless. He was able to grant the money request, but he had to ask both Keevan and Haila if that was the way they would go with latinum, given it might not always satisfy him - but his mother was certain. The wish was granted, and fires exploded from the fireplace to form several hundred bricks, thousands of strips, and millions of slips of gold-pressed latinum. And it was this money which mother and son decided to use it and make a fortune large enough to pass themselves off as royalty and make way into the Royal Court of Kaldathia.

"Called Princess Haila and Prince Keevan, they arrived on _uman_ stallions and a throne of gold and jewels, carried to the front gates where the Emperor himself had not expected to see such valuable displaying guests - he would have refused them if not for the gifts of more gold and jewels in both latinum and jewelry presented...until Prince Keevan asked for the hand in marriage of the emperor's daughter Eris. But his hopes were shattered once he learned the young princess was betrothed to another - to the Grand Vizier's son, Revaan. He had come too little too late, but that did not prevent Emperor Zairn from welcoming Keevan and his mother warmly any time into his court. The princess and advisor's son were to be wed in _three_ _days' time._

"In perfect timing," Kilana continued, her heart lifting with such spirits as she found herself in love with her own story, matching Weyoun's, and his eyes were closed with the passion, "the princess herself came gowned in elaborately bejeweled pale blue gossamer and silk, her short-cut dark hair set with an equally expensive headdress - and her attention was rapt on the magnificent young man in front of her, not focused on the other man she was engaged to marry. She could have sworn she'd seen him somewhere - and Keevan knew what she meant, but he would not let the answer get out to her father and the rest watching - and his answer was, 'I have been somewhere, but I would have remembered you, Princess.' And so he presented her with a ravishing marriage gift: a gold-finished necklace set with dainty diamonds, with a large red ruby opulent in name and appearance. He draped it over her neck, and she accepted it as a generous gift, and speaking of gifts, he allowed the emperor to keep the ones he offered - and walked away with a broken heart and an even greater determination than before.

"He schemed with the djinni and his mother to stop that 'idiot Revaan from marrying the princess', as he put it. The ideas from the djinni were tempting: turning him into a _butan_ pig, or even better: a roasted pig and eat him. Tempting, again, but not Keevan's style. Perhaps an accident? 'Too crude'. But before he could do anything, the djinni said, Keevan needed to find some means of finding out if Eris really loved him and not Revaan. Women tended to love men unworthy of them, after all, even despite parental disapproval."

Weyoun nodded. "I agree with that, Kilana. Men themselves often love women unworthy of _them_." Just as he could love her despite her being lower than him, Kilana thought as she nodded.

"Except love has nothing to do with worth," she told him. "Love is a madness in prince or beggar. Neither has control over it, no matter any higher power trying to stop it."

"And the djinni said that women loved men unworthy of them - or was it you?" There was a slight trace of accusation in his eyes, but only a trace. She shook her head.

"No, the djinni said so." But before she could go on, the doors opened behind them, and she and Weyoun turned to look around and see her father come in with a grave expression on his face. "Father!"

"Borath," Weyoun stated, somber and irritated at the interruption. "You've put me in a foul mood with this unexpected disruption. What do you want?"

"I apologize, Ambassador, but my news will make it worse. Your brother is raising an army against you - and even bigger than your own to take the city and all of Kurill Prime from you."

~o~

 _"Come, Weyoun, my love."_

The old wounds returned as quickly as they came when Weyoun stood in on the balcony of the headquarters, seething as he gazed out at the distance where Gelnon's army was assembling, ready to wage a war on him...but he intended to act even if he was limited, but Gelnon's command of executioners were nothing compared to Weyoun's own.

 _Luaran...WITCH._

He remembered the malicious glint in her eyes when he loomed over her body, prepared to make love to her - but his eyes caught the glint of silver before he was ensnared. Then she screamed, knowing she was caught. _"Gelnon, kill him! KILL HIM!"_

The embrace he'd seen them in as he fought off the assassins - and the look on her face when he threw the lethal shot to her back and pierced her heart...

Kilana was behind him, but he couldn't look at her. He knew she was trying to think of how to console him, but he didn't need it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to finish listening to the story of Keevan, the djinni and Princess Eris - but on second thought, he needed distraction right now. "Carry on with Keevan's plan," he said, his voice sounding far away to his own ears.

"Keevan accepted the djinni's wise words about women loving men unworthy of them," she said, relieving him on the spot. "So, perhaps she did love Revaan and not him, but how could he be sure? He asked the djinni to...change him into something so he could sneak into the palace and into the princess's chambers to entertain her, hopefully get her to talk. Foolish as it was, he had to try. Tomorrow was the wedding day of Eris and Revaan, so there wasn't much time. The djinni changed him into a _saruan_ monkey; how ironic that the Vorta are said to stem from apes that Keevan got to assume the form," she told him with a little chuckle, and he joined her. Ironic, indeed. Sometimes he himself wondered what it would be like to live in ape form for a day. "When he arrived in the chamber of the princess, he found her in pale silk ready for bed and made her laugh when she saw his presence. Her maidservant left them be so Eris could entertain her unexpected late night guest. She tickled him and he tickled her - once accidentally on her breasts."

To touch a woman's breasts without her consent was taboo, but it sounded like it was accidental on ape-Keevan's part and hers, but he fell over laughing, holding onto the railing of the balcony for support and Kilana kneeling down to hoist him up, laughing herself and her lungs burning as his were. "Anyway," she said when they both calmed down, "Eris told her odd friend that she was getting married tomorrow to the vizier's son, signed and sealed and delivered - yet she could not stop thinking about her strange prince who professed his heart of gold, but what was done had been done unless legal means of annulling the marriage to Revaan; she had no power over it and had to accept. If she continued to think about Prince Keevan, then that would make her arranged life all the more pleasant. He stayed with her that night, understanding every word she said, even slept with her that night - without inappropriate conduct, of course. By the latest of hours, Keevan slipped out and assumed his human form again with the help of the djinni.

"'She loves me!' he said with pure enthusiasm and pride, jumping up and down with joy as he broke it to his mother and their faithful servant. 'She does not love Revaan!' But she was still marrying Revaan tomorrow, but the greatest idea of all time had come. The wedding came and went, a grand affair and the bride in white and gold, but the marriage was not yet consummated - and Keevan had to prevent it from happening by one means necessary. And the djinni had to add offense by stating that Revaan was 'quite the acrobat in the sexual arena' - and indeed in love mostly with himself than with his young royal bride. He thought by constantly preening himself, he would get Eris' body...but he never got the chance as a great force of wind drew him away from the marriage bed - and into the relief room, where he spent all night unable to get off himself. The deed done with a pipe sucked through by the djinni from outside, so poor Revaan suffered for something that wasn't his fault. But at least it didn't get his wife," Kilana said with the most mischievous of grins. The most humiliating of wedding nights that Weyoun ever heard of, driving a giggle that sounded like it would belong to her instead.

"Her enraged father was most disgusted when he learned of this misdeed by the next morning, publicly shaming his advisor's son for being 'an insult to my daughter, and worse - to ME! He prefers a stinking privy to a beautiful young woman! The marriage is _annulled!_ ' Just like that, and Keevan had his laugh for himself as he saw his chance had come. The next day he went to the emperor and gave three thousand gold bricks of latinum, promising to build a palace for them both, and by the time it was completed, then he would marry Eris."

So, the djinni must have thought Keevan the best master he ever had, given he had a heart of gold despite the life he lived - but he could still betray him anytime he wanted, and even though Keevan himself might not like it, he promised no hard feelings. Solamon's curse gave the djinni that opportunity. "And so the palace built was far grander than any in existence. Seeing this, Emperor Zairn was pleased to his core," Kilana gushed as though she'd seen it herself, "and amongst thrown pearls and flowers, Prince Keevan and Princess Eris were wed within a week. Their union was a happy one, and some months went by that they began to get to know each other - but he could never tell her of the djinni or his true past for fear of losing her, as much as it pained him. Nevertheless, it was the happiest day of his life."

Weyoun did not miss the hint of doubt in her voice, having known it would come eventually. "But?" he questioned.

"But," she repeated, "Nafaru himself was back on the Dosi homeworld when his magical harp spoke to him that _Keevan_ survived the cave and had the lamp in his possession, and that he had married Princess Eris after passing himself off as a prince with the help of the djinni of the lamp. He knew he had to do something and go back to Kaldathia. When he did, he began to exchange new lamps for OLD lamps. Meanwhile, the bridal couple was happier than ever, and Mother Haila loved Eris like a daughter, proud of her son. Mother and son continued to keep their secret from the new woman in their lives, the breath of fresh air - and all of that will catch up eventually." An edge of suspense in her voice was present. "They were so in love they didn't see the threat coming for them."

Keevan was a skilled thief in his time, so he would have sensed the danger returning, and Weyoun had to ask if he sensed something was wrong. "Normally he would have," Kilana answered. "But he was in love." And love changed everything. Weyoun closed his eyes. Men and women all acted out of character. But his wife before all of this... "Oh, yes. My father thought I would never get married, told me love and marriage was about making sacrifices. I was too willful for that...but I've changed."

He and Luaran never had to make sacrifices, so with Kilana giving everything she had for him...it _had_ to be love. He had never felt so...alleviated than he did now. "And Keevan now?"

"Nafaru passed by Keevan's palace, and a servant who heard the call had found the lamp, for everyone loved a bargain - like the Ferengi and Dosi especially...and it was the doom of everything he held dear. By the time Nafaru got the one he wanted and rubbed the lamp...everything Keevan loved, save for the bed he and Eris shared, was gone. And his terrified mother came to them while her daughter-in-law slept, the both of them petrified and trying to figure out how to tell her he wasn't the prince she thought he was - and then Nafaru himself made his appearance with the lamp djinni as his servant now, officially turned on Keevan."

 **The story of Aladdin - and now Keevan - is perhaps the longest ever done in the entire story. XD More will come in the next chapter. The plot thickens.**


	6. Djinnis, Jokers and Beggars

Chapter Six

Djinnis, Jokers and Beggars

"The princess awoke then, at the sound of Nafaru's ringing of the lamp over her. She was startled by the sight of the Dosi with the lamp, and then saw only herself, the bed she shared with her husband, and her spouse himself and mother-in-law as well as outdoors - and no trace of the palace and riches, including the servants. The crafty sorcerer himself explained to her that it was all gone, none of it real. And stated that Keevan whom she loved and married was no prince, all of it a fraud like he." Kilana found herself looking down at the ring around her right middle finger, from Weyoun's late mother that he saw himself, biting his lip as he must be thinking about her. His mother was the breath of fresh air that Eris had called Keevan's, given she was like no other she ever met before. "He said it was all gone like the snows of the past season. At first, Eris couldn't believe it, didn't _want_ to believe it, until she turned to her husband himself and asked him herself."

Weyoun bowed his head as though he had taken Keevan's part. "He admitted it, I take it." It was in no shape or form a question.

"He confessed," Kilana told him. "And for that, he received a blow to the face -" She stopped there for a second, remembering the night she struck her beloved across the face, and it was days ago - but it was only once and still in the past; it still didn't make it right. Anyways, she had to go on. "- and Eris cursed at him for lying and saying he was a prince, to which Nafaru mocked him for his smallness now. And in her anger, Eris took off the ring Keevan gave her - the same ring which was the magic one carrying the other, less powerful djinni, demanding to know where it all came from, but before Keevan could answer, Nafaru spoke magic and rubbed the lamp, and out came the other djinni that I spoke prior. Mother Haila damned him for his betrayal, and as a consequence, she got herself transformed into a _niwtori_ hen, befitting her constantly clucking tongue. It was also then that Keevan knew he had to act, and he had not forgotten the other djinni in the ring. Picking up said ring, he put it on his own finger and rubbed it three times until the spirit himself materialized before them.

"He complained that he got off his sick bed to come here, and upon seeing the other djinni, he lost his nerve. 'Oh, Founders!' he cried. 'What in the name of evil are YOU doing here?!' To which the other djinni bared his teeth and snarled. Nafaru asked if they knew each other, and his djinni replied that they hated each other, which had only just got interesting." She cracked another broad grin. "The ring djinni said they were distant, distant cousins on his father's side, calling him a lying, bullying dog. Keevan himself then declared that it would be a challenge, life-threatening as it was: his djinni against Nafaru's, and the winner would take all. 'No, no, no!' the ring djinni protested as he tried to get away. 'Master Keevan, you do not understand; his magic is stronger than mine...!'

"But the location was switched by Nafaru's magic finger from the land 'owned' by Keevan to become an arena from ancient times on Qo'noS or any other old civilization in the galaxy, the deal done and it would be both djinnis from both sides to fight and claim all. It began when the lamp djinni changed into a _nekat_ feline and the ring into a _nezumi_ mouse, but the latter eventually turned into a _shibainu_ dog to frighten the cat into turning into a fierce dragon breathing fire from its mouth. The poor ring djinni assumed humanoid form and ran back to his master, begging him to not send him back out there, but Keevan assured him he was a pro. It was also then that Eris demanded to know if he really did love her...or if it was all a lie like everything else. And he answered honestly, the answer being no, that he always loved her from the moment he first saw her, making her smile and that being all she needed to know.

"The ring djinni was sent out again, transforming into a camel - and he spit into the dragon's mouth to tame the fires." She and Weyoun were laughing at the imagery conjured up, but it was also disgusting. "But the lamp djinni counterattacked by becoming a great _zouliphant_ , ears greater than any fern trees and flapping in the winds, tusks ivory and gnarling out enough to pierce, trunk longer than any of our arms. The five time sized beast frightened the poor ring djinni, but it was not long before he was a mouse again, for it was known to scare big creatures like the _zouliphant_. It worked and drove his enemy back, for awhile...before he became the bait that trapped the mouse: cheese on a trap, a common tool from the Terrans. Despite Keevan and Eris' pleas, the mouse-djinni found himself ensnared, losing on the side. Nafaru boasted his victory...but he forgot that Keevan was still a thief at heart, so he did the one sure thing when the sorcerer was not looking. Can you guess?" she asked, winking at Weyoun, whose face was tugged at one corner with a devious smirk.

"Well, seeing as it is obvious he'd lost and didn't know it, Keevan took the lamp for himself, didn't he?"

"Correct. Keevan had won, and once he had the lamp back in his possession, the djinni turned Nafaru into a life-size statue. The ring djinni was freed from his trap, and Mother Haila back into her own form. Keevan himself had picked his last pocket; he still got his wife Eris, all he dreamed of, and that was why Princess Eris loved him even more: he was clever and devious, more than any man she'd ever known. He even gave the ring djinni his freedom, but the lamp one refused, claiming he had so much power that he had no idea what to do if he were set free."

Her husband sighed and leaned against the pillows, inhaling the remaining perfume there. "So, if Keevan really set both djinnis free, would he be able to give up all that power?"

The question made her remember the healer and her father both saying so many weeks ago that it was not only Luaran's turning of the tides, but also...absolute power that had eaten her Weyoun's soul. Which put to mind the next story coming up, as well as her answer of the truth. "Power isn't that important," Kilana answered tenderly, looking over his soft face, at peace. "It's happiness...something you yourself was deprived of."

That alone made him look at her again, his mouth parting slightly to let in a few breaths of air. "It was also something poor...Amun didn't have. In fact, he is the hero while the other main man is the opposite. Amun himself had no peace, no comfort, and no love. All the things we need and deserve."

~o~

By the time the tale of Keevan and the Magic Lamp ended, Weyoun began to draw some parallels from it to Akihiro, different as they were, but similar nevertheless. A poor man getting the woman he loved and all he dreamed of because of his good heart despite the challenges he faced ahead and the harsh lifestyle lived prior. And now Kilana was talking about... "Who is Amun?" he asked curiously. Her eyes twinkled like soft jewels.

"He was a poor beggar who lived in the neighboring city of Caitora, next to us. I thought you might like this one because he...looks like you."

Weyoun blinked and looked at her, raising his head with both eyebrows raised. Like...him? Now she was telling him a story in which there was a _poor man_ who looked like HIM? "M-me?" he repeated in disdain, although a part of him was flattered. It wasn't the first time storytellers or great authors put themselves or someone else they knew into a story.

"Yes," Kilana said, not smiling in spite of her twinkling orbs, "but what makes this story even more interesting is the fact that the other main man is Ambassador Alrashid, who looked exactly like your...brother." He blinked again; now he was interested. A poor man based off of himself, and the ambassador who was Gelnon now - both men with different names, however. He laughed, throwing his head back at how funny it was now.

"So, I am the beggar and my brother is the ambassador of Caitora...but you want to save _that_ for tomorrow night."

The reason he decided to hear this story tomorrow night was because tomorrow he needed to call a meeting with Borath, a few other fellow Vorta advisors and his Jem'Hadar, regarding the army Gelnon set up against him. He needed his strength for then. But as he laid back, he realized he didn't want to be alone. "Kilana...stay with me tonight."

She looked surprised that he asked her, but he wasn't going to repeat himself. "I just don't want to...be alone tonight, that is all," he clarified, and as soon as she joined him, turning her back to him and he wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her close, a sudden warmth and serenity washed over his senses and cleansed his fears away. Burying his face into her silken hair, now he detected florals from water, and it made him close his eyes and drift off into peaceful oblivion...

And so, by the next early afternoon, the meeting took place in the board room. "Ambassador, your brother's army is two days away," Borath informed him somberly, clasping his fingers in front of him and trying not to be too grim. "What do you intend to do?"

He lifted his chin and looked at every one of the men around him - both Jem'Hadar and Vorta alike - and sniffed. "I will say wait. Strong nerves have to wait. And when the time is right while we arm, then we sneak at dawn where he camps and attack before he reaches our lands."

~o~

Weyoun was coming out of the darkness that had dominated his soul. Each day and night that passed, she could see it in his eyes that the dark amethyst was becoming light again.

Last night after she finished Keevan's story, he asked her to sleep with him, without touching anywhere. Never in her life did she share a bed with any man, but Weyoun ASKED her to. He never said why aside from not wishing to be alone, so she assumed it was because he just needed her to make sure he didn't dream again of _her_. Kilana could hardly contain her joy at the heaven in her own soul as her husband held her in his bed in the most tender way possible.

Now Deyos was telling her that tomorrow there would be a storytelling contest, and asked her to be a part of it, and he would be the president. They would be competing for money, whilst she had competed for her life - and here she was, still alive after all this time. As soon as they were inside his tent, he asked how it was with entertaining her husband the ambassador. "I've told an adventure story," she responded, "then a comedy and now a fantasy. Perhaps I should go with...a tragedy now." And it would include a good moral in which the terrible ambassador - Gelnon - got what he deserved for what he did to the poorer Vorta - Weyoun - only for the latter to turn out better than he. No doubt it would be the last step, or maybe second to last, to save Weyoun's vital force. "I hooked him by saying the main characters resemble him and his brother. But I have to make sure he never knows what happens next." Even though she herself had no idea what events happened exactly just yet. "His brother, Gelnon, is marching against him," Kilana told Deyos. "I need to know if it's really the perfect time for a new story."

His expression was of pure ecstasy and delight. Even his voice was a hiss of passion. "It is the _perfect_ time, Madam Ambassador. Stories show us how to win, and in your case to defeat death."

Then it was settled. By the upcoming time, her husband would hear the story that would save not only her life, but his and those of his people from his renegade brother.

"Amun the beggar had a few slips of latinum left, and headed straight for the nearest bar," she told her husband while she did the one thing she always wanted to do for Weyoun. Wearing her robe and nightgown, and he naked save for a towel around his waist, she gave him the most miraculous of massages he ever received in his life. To moisturize and nourish his flesh as well as to entice the senses - but hopefully not too soon while she was still talking of this one important tale. The oil was scented with luscious, fresh fruits as well as an exotic floral blend and herbal remedy. "Meanwhile, Ambassador Alrashid prowled the city streets in disguise, looking for adventure. He was accompanied by the Jem'Hadar commander of the army and the Chief Advisor Melous - who looked just like my father. The ambassador himself found his job as the most boring in the world, so he had to disguise himself and become one of his own subjects. But Alrashid found it amusing while his Jem'Hadar commander stated it was dangerous business. He laughed it all off, saying that he wanted to make a joke come alive and bring his laughter to life - and to get that done was to find any ordinary Vorta folk from the bar for the job. Right then and now, he was laughing inside for he wished they knew WHO he was."

She paused to savor the feel of Weyoun's bare skin beneath her hands, as well as hearing his moans that she was doing so well. "Please, continue," he murmured when he noticed she'd paused. "What did Alrashid do once he was in the bar? Did he meet...Amun?"

She kneaded his firm shoulders when she did. "He found none other than Amun the beggar, in a drunken state that he happened to strike up a conversation with, on the verge of laughing as he knew he found a man. Amun rambled on about how tomorrow he would get on a ship called his destiny - and that was to be _ambassador._ Which made Alrashid, the real ambassador, laugh it off and point out the other man's clothes and ruined hair, asking him how he could even make himself look fit to lead their people. Of course, Amun sneered that Alrashid - whom he didn't know he was speaking to really - was born with a silver eating utensil in his mouth while he himself had nothing except his own tongue, and it burst into a fit of laughter between the men. Until Amun himself passed out from the intoxication, and Alrashid knew he had to start the jest, so he ordered the unconscious beggar to be taken to Headquarters so they could prep him for the 'game'.

"It was a sick joke they played. He was washed and perfumed, his hair groomed, so that even his mother wouldn't recognize him. All the while he was prepped, the real Ambassador Alrashid could not stop laughing, and many would follow as he watched from secret chambers throughout the command center. By the next morning when he awoke, Amun thought he was still drunk as sunlight blinded him for a moment, before it cleared...and he saw he was surrounded by golden walls, a ceiling, and ivory floors trimmed with gold. Not to mention, he was robed with red and gold. He thought he was dreaming - and then he heard the vicious laughter from the distance, and screamed at whoever it was to go away. But the laughter kept growing to a point where he howled and jumped to his feet in time for the Chief Advisor and commander of the army, as well as maidservants and healers to come to his aid. He asked who he was, to which he was answered that he was Ambassador Alrashid; he was told that he had been up drinking all night that it affected his memory. Amun did not believe it at first, still assuming he lost his mind, but as the day passed and through the lingering fumes of his alcoholic brain, he was already half-inclined to agree with Advisor Melous and the others. He was bathed and fed magnificent fruits by maids, robed in exquisite garments and brought to meet with the vizier and the rest of his political staff.

"As it turned out, he was not interested in just sitting and talking. When it came to the subject of his people, he insisted on focusing on them and not some fellow politician. The whole of Headquarters had gone along with the real ambassador's cruel jest, not telling Amun what to do and how to do it. It was well worth more than their lives to object. No matter his protests, the rest of the staff laughed and thought he was playing a joke on them. From the first day on, all Amun could think about was where the next drink was coming from - but everything had changed," she breathed when she worked her way down to Weyoun's hips, drawing a shudder from him when she fondled a sensitive place before quickly moving back up altogether. "He was a different man, began to look at various PADD work and see the errors done to his people - what the real Ambassador Alrashid had done to the rest of the Vorta and others in the Dominion. Knowing he had power, he made the decision to discuss the matters of his people; he proposed lowering of taxes, building of a new educational system in each of the major cities. His advisor insisted on consulting and pondering the matter, but it would only mean he would do nothing. And so, as one decree, the taxes were reduced...by half.

"As for the real Ambassador Alrashid, having watched from his secret hiding places, was not laughing this time as he along with the others saw that Amun was taking his responsibilities as ambassador very seriously. It was by then and there that Alrashid intended to finish the joke, so he ordered a sleeping drug in the wine until Amun passed out, where he was redressed in his beggar's clothes and tossed back out to where he belonged...in the streets."

"Where he had a rude awakening," Weyoun stated, turning over to lay on his side, telling her he was done now and that she could stop. Nodding, Kilana began to put the oils and lotions away while still speaking. The smell of spice and incense lingered in the air.

"It was indeed terrible, going from extreme wealth to extreme poverty - it's enough to drive _any_ man mad. He went insane this time, continually ranting and believing he was the ambassador, and this is what they do for mad people: they put them in the insane asylum. That was where poor Amun remained for some time to come. It all seemed so real to him, but as time passed, it became less real that he even began to doubt it ever happened. But Ambassador Alrashid wasn't finished playing with him yet as he continued to come to the cell with food and conversation in disguise as a guard. By then, the real madman himself decided to give Amun another 'crack at it' - he intended to give him another taste of the same joke as ambassador for another day...and little did he know the consequences that he would not heed from Melous."

Weyoun's brows furrowed. "What consequences? Will Amun...kill himself?" The horror laced his words that it hit the dabo number. "That is usually what happens when a madman can't take it anymore."

She already knew the answer, but she would not spoil it just yet. She would keep building there because that point would push him away from the cliff of endless black. "Alrashid intended to send him mad for the rest of his life, and it was the biggest joke to him yet. So, his torture continued when Amun awoke after another drugged drink in his lonely cell, he screamed for sure and ran around the bedchamber, and upon hearing the laugh again, howling at the 'demon' - and seeing it was coming from the closed doors at the end of the room - before drawing a sword from the commander who came in with Advisor Melous, ignoring their protests...and drove the blade into the door, striking its target on the other side."

The look on Weyoun's face was priceless; his eyes were wide and his mouth slackened in visible shock. She grinned. "The doors opened to show the dead Ambassador Alrashid, with a stupid grin on his face, and stabbed in the abdomen with blood still staining the blade. His final laugh remained etched on his wicked face. Perhaps he should have remembered one important rule: _never_ tell the same joke twice."

It was then that Weyoun burst out laughing again, curling into a ball and still wearing the towel. She worried it would slip and reveal something important, but it didn't. When he pulled himself together, she finished the story. "Since Alrashid never married and had no heir, it would mean civil war. But there was also Amun who had done good in a mere two days, so it was decided that the real Ambassador Alrashid had gone off on a pilgrimage and left Amun as his successor - to which he himself continued to believe he WAS the one true leader of the Vorta and the entire Dominion. Leaving the real Alrashid to be called the...jester. 'His last joke was a killer', the commander said, and they laughed when they recalled Alrashid always said they had no sense of humor, when they actually _did._ " This earned another bout of laughter, for the maniac had gotten what he truly deserved as a certain someone else in Weyoun's past did - and another soon enough.

"And so, it was," Kilana finished. "Amun became one of the most beloved ambassadors in history - and Alrashid was completely forgotten. No representative could lead on their own, but for the Vorta, it certainly is possible...as it is with a man in front of me." She found herself looking into her husband's eyes when he turned to look at her.

But then he looked away from her. The both of them were sitting in bed together. "Ambassador Alrashid was consumed by laughter," he spoke, sounding distant once again, "but I was consumed by fear of betrayal. I was...prepared to do anything to feed that fear, while Alrashid fed his cruel humor."

He was comparing himself to this monster which had gotten his just desserts in the end. But that was not - "It wasn't you," she assured him. "You're not that monster he was. Not anymore - or ever were. That fear of betrayal was a darkness inside you that I was prepared to face."

Now his head jerked back up again. "Is it still there?" he demanded, softly however. More curious than furious. "Look into my eyes, Kilana, and see for yourself. What do you see?"

Gazing into those soft lavender orbs, she saw blackness but only in a small natural circle. And in that black pupil was a woman who swore to pull him from his despair and had so far succeeded, but one more battle to fight that she knew she was prepared to do with him. "It's me, looking at you...my love," she whispered. "I see myself in your eyes."

His hand had come up, cupping her chin and raising her face to look into his once again, and he was so close to leaning in and about to kiss her when -

"Weyoun, your brother is camped outside the city," Borath said when he stood in the doorway. "We don't have much time left; we must hurry and prepare to stop him."

 **In the last chapter as well as this one, I forgot to mention that the certain exotic names in italics before the actual names of the animals come from actual Japanese words for those creatures. And as for the story of the Ambassador and the Beggar - then The Sultan and the Beggar - Amin was changed INTO Amun, whilst Al-Rashid became Alrashid.**

 **Weyoun is one more step away from leaving the darkness. :D Read and review as usual.**


	7. Three Brothers and Combined Strength

Chapter Seven

Three Brothers and Combined Strength

The army was parked outside Maduraa as planned, the weapons from phaser in both pistol and rifle form to _kar'takin_ \- and he himself brought the one thing he prized most that he considered a good luck token for their victory. They failed the first time around, but even death would not keep her from being here when he finished what they both started. Gelnon caressed his beloved's pale face and whispered once again tenderly to her as the winds.

"Soon, my love." And soon his brother would fall, his wife with him...and all of the Dominion would be his.

~o~

Tomorrow he would face his devil of a brother once and for all. Gelnon and Luaran thought they could overthrow him once before, and not this time. Right now he and his dresser were working on the mesh armor he would wear for his own protection as he would face Gelnon man to man personally. Meanwhile, his spies were scouting the enemy camp and would return soon enough to report.

Meanwhile, he was alone in his tent with his wife, his _beloved_ Kilana. How could he ever thank her for this? WHY had he wanted her dead? He was such a coward just because of Luaran - and she didn't cower from him. He wasn't a murderer; _Gelnon_ was. On his wedding day, his brother had cause to slyly state that his new wife better live up to his own expectations. Kilana was fierce, beautiful and intelligent, loyal, and her stories were everything he never thought he would have. Those lessons on how power wasn't everything, that happiness was the one thing that mattered most even if it wasn't easy to obtain - but in the end, the wrongdoer had his comeuppance and the good one won. Just notably the one of the ambassador and the beggar...

That alone gave him a great reason to defeat Gelnon once and for all, and the moral of Bac-Bac to "take responsibility for your actions", which was exactly what his brother needed to do. Accept the responsibility and let his blood stain Weyoun's blade, even wet the earth.

Weyoun now found himself looking at his wife sitting down on the magnificent cushions, wearing a garb completely different from the gowns he always saw. Her blouse was white, light and airy, gracing her form, and her trousers were dark and tight, her boots matching. Around her neck were the pearls he always carried each night she told him a story, the ones that belonged to his mother. He had tried to give them to Luaran on their wedding night, but she never savored pearls no matter the sentimental value. And Kilana never once asked for them. They shimmered lustrously against her skin.

"You don't look well," she told him as she looked up from a PADD. "Will a story help?"

He shook his head. "No, my love," he answered. To finally say the word without falsity - it felt more than wonderful, more real than a dream. She was his one and only, the one he should have been with all along before... "The only danger you face now is my brother, and even your stories won't protect you. He'll have cut your throat. It won't be the perfect time, Kilana."

He'd always known she would go on anyway. "It's the perfect time. This one regards a time of war, in a manner. About three brothers who fought like you and Gelnon. Happened long ago in far away Yeman, a century before our time." He turned back to face her after having some rippleberry wine, now deciding that she was right that he should listen to this. It might not work on Gelnon, but perhaps it could help him _fight_ his brother.

"Yeman was ruled by Vorta Prime Minister Salzenon. He had three sons altogether by the names and gifts: Hasvan, who was the best swordsman; Ahdam, on the other hand, a master bowman; and finally, Elos who had extraordinary strength in his hands. As time went on from early young adult years into their middle manhood years - not middle-age, but halfway past second decades of life - and their playful fighting amongst each other and vandalisms of construction of certain structures in the city, one in particular being a new shop in the making. Only this time was not regarding fun; it was over the love of the neighboring Princess Fayea, which pushed the father's buttons one last time. Adding in the fact that the three sons wrecked the lavish prized gardens of the estate one last time. The Prime Minister was not dying anytime soon, but once his time was up, he would have to choose an heir - and not one son was favored given they were all 'buffoons' and 'disgraces', tearing everything down for their own amusement and petty disputes. And one of them would end up with Princess Fayea. With all this fighting and talk of dying, the three sons would tear the planet and the Dominion apart - this government which endured for ten thousand years thus far and Salzenon would not let it all crumble under his unfavored sons.

"To prove their worth and to make damned sure they would work in harmony, he would send his sons on a quest across the island and perhaps the planet for a year, and they would each bring back a wonder that no one had ever seen before. 'You must leave together, and _return_ together,' the Prime Minister ordered firmly, for upon their return with a great wonder, he would name his successor. And so the brothers left immediately on stallions, the old-fashioned manner to prove their combined strength. Together, they ventured out into the unknown, the greatest wonder in the universe."

She sat up straighter, crossing her legs beneath her, and he mimicked as he joined her. "They agreed that on the same day next year, they would meet up with their great discoveries. They had no maps to guide them, going to countries where travelers said there'd be _dragons._ So, beginning with Elos, who found himself in a fabled land: the bronze city of Zirroc, but it was all gone now, for the bronze rusted and the fountains dried up. Nevertheless, in life and decay, it was a wonder to behold. There, he found one sure wonder, despite having been seen before: an ancient scope unlike no other; all you had to do was ask, and it showed you what you wanted. In his case, he asked to see the Princess Fayea of Yeman. But it was already bought by another rival, and to obtain what he had come all this way for, Elos fought the fire men at the other's command before throwing a blade into his real opponent's heart, obtaining his prize and making way back to his location to wait for his two brothers.

"Meanwhile, Ahdam headed north for one sure object that was said to possess the secret to healing the sick and dying - the Q'lava of Life. He came across a monastery in which the sacred fruit was prayed upon. He could not get it without going past the holy worshippers and passing a test of character. Using his skill with the bow and arrows, he shot certain targets until he came to the greatest challenge ever - he was to shoot an apple atop the head of one of their youngest, but Ahdam feared it, and if he refused, then he would lose and walk away empty-handed. Having a conscience, he resigned and refused to shoot an innocent child either by accident or purpose...and by doing this, he won by losing, and walked away with his prize that was the Q'lava of Life. But not before he was given words of advice on how to use it."

Weyoun wanted to know what that advice was, but decided it could wait. "And Hasvan, the last?"

"Rode onwards towards the famous city of Preta. Today she is known to be under the earth, maybe consumed by mountains and forestry - but then, she was the jewel of the eastern part of Kurill. It was in Preta that Hasvan discovered the most amazing thing about the city, for it was _two_ and not one. The second city lay under the first, and this underground survived many years after the first, but that, too, is gone. Here in Preta, Hasvan came across a great selling of marvelous carpets, but it was one in particular that had caught his attention based on the seller's perspective - it was not an ordinary carpet. It was a _flying carpet,_ " Kilana told him with her famous broad smile that made him shrink back, both with excitement and intrigue. So far he'd heard of djinnis, wise camels, and now flying _carpets_. "At his command, the carpet raised itself alone and floated about the room. It could take you anywhere you wanted, and all you had to do was ask. Purchasing it was worth all the trouble, because once it was clear he was royalty based on the amount of latinum he was willing to pay, the shopkeeper called armed men to rob and kill him - but they were no match for his sword skills, and he escaped unharmed on the flying carpet to return to join his brothers, where they shared each of their findings.

"But the scope itself revealed their father ill and dying that they had to return fast on the carpet," Kilana finished, voice dripping with shock, her face matching before it changed entirely to soft content. "They gave the Prime Minister the Q'lava of Life, and as a result of this adventure of learning to coincide and work together, they all became one heir to their father and ruled in peace. They learned one important lesson entirely: men united were better than men divided."

Men united were better than men divided...he had seen it all happen, but such was not the case with him and his own brother. Because underneath their troublesome shells, the brothers all came close together to save each other and their father, but Gelnon did not have what they did - what Weyoun knew he had, and Kilana had seen it. "What advice was Ahdam given when he took the q'lava?"

"The universe is an inferno full of darkness and evil, and that there were only two ways of dealing with it: the first is easy and wrong, and it is to accept it and become part of it. The second way is harder and right - you fight it and recognize those who aren't evil, and help them endure."

And she took the second way: she helped him and SAVED him from the darkness. He knew the answer all along - because she _loved_ him, and he knew he loved her from the start. It had always been, even when he didn't remember her at first, and he was blinded by death and madness that he almost destroyed this one precious creature in front of him. And the heavy weight on his soul lifted, replacing with something more fresh and renewing than any rain to cover Maduraa City, Delhati and the rest.

He leaned over and captured his wife's lips with a kiss.

He could not describe what had come over him. Tomorrow he would go off to fight, but tonight he wanted to spend it with Kilana before he had his strength saved to take Gelnon's life once and for all. He then broke it, looking down and seeing her breathless. "Are you sure you want to do this now, Weyoun?" she whispered.

He smiled, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. "I'm sure. I want to make love to my wife tonight, all night maybe, before I go off to battle tomorrow."

"My love..."

Soon they were both naked, their clothes laid on the chair next to the makeshift bed, Kilana laying down first and a vision with just his mother's pearls around her neck and nothing else. Weyoun closed his eyes at the tight heat his body endured at the sight of her, reopening them again to take her in for the second time. Her curves were sumptuous, her breasts domed and firm, both of which he traced with his mouth and tongue, causing her to writhe and gasp. The taste and feel of her was indescribably enticing. Lower, past her flat abdomen, between her thighs was a garden of musk guarded with two ivory pillars, powerfully intoxicating to his urges. To TASTE - he caused her to thrash beneath him and moan loud enough to catch the attention of any of his guards. No proper definition of what he tasted and touched, before he decided his own body was not best left unattended to without the one sure way to go.

"Weyoun, wait," Kilana panted, putting her hands on his chest when his body came to rest over hers. "I want to touch you now." He nodded, closing his eyes when he felt her hands roam over his firm, defined muscles and his rippled stomach, chewing his bottom lip to prevent a moan from completely escaping as she touched the most sacred spot between his legs as he did to hers. This was nothing like the way his first had been. He remembered being young and not knowing what to do, and _she_ seemed to know everything more than he did, but she hadn't shoved him away.

And Kilana seemed to know what she was doing to, despite being pure. She could have picked up the subject reading somewhere else, or gotten tutorials from an experienced Vorta female friend. He couldn't ask now, not when they were just beginning what would be the last step to completing their union. "I'll be gentle with you," Weyoun breathed down to her when he shifted so his hips were aligned with hers, in the correct position.

"I trust you," she replied.

With the small bonfire made before their bed, they became one that night before the final battle would begin.

~o~

She could still feel him on her body even by the next morning when dawn broke and she dressed to join her husband when he met with the Jem'Hadar First-in-Command. Last night after she told him of the three brothers who fought but managed to overcome their differences, Weyoun made love to her and she accepted it, not being the one to make the first move and allowing him to take lead. He had embraced the light she helped him back into, and this was his way of saying how much he loved her without going into the details she did; for a powerful man influencing those beneath him, he lacked the proper words to express verbally.

By the time she looked at his face, she saw him stoned and determined. He was ready to go out and fight. The army was ready, he was ready, but first they were approached by Borath and the First. "We have reports on the army of Gelnon," First Viran'itan informed him. "They have the body of...Madam Ambassador Luaran with them, in Captain Gelnon's possession."

Kilana felt like her stomach would lurch by the time she learned this. Luaran was dead, and Weyoun had killed her himself. But even in death, she could still help destroy him. Borath and Viran'itan went on to explain how she was used as a good luck charm for the whole army. It made her snort. "Tell them that we have someone even more powerful than a dead woman," she stated. "Father, First, I will be riding off to battle beside my husband." If Gelnon himself wanted to see she was loyal as ever as he taunted his brother, she would show him.

"No, it's too dangerous," her father insisted.

"He's right," Weyoun agreed. "You don't have to prove your love for me."

She shook her head. It was not her intention to prove anything. "It will only raise the spirits of our men. The enemy has a dead Vorta lady, and you have a live one. A live one is even better."

All it took was First Viran'itan's concur to get her father and husband to reluctantly agree. She was going off into the battlefield after all.

~o~

The gates opened, and he with his wife beside him led the way out into the desert where the enemy awaited unexpectedly - or maybe they waited patiently and would strike upon spotting the other battalion coming for them. The morning was cold as they went forth to do their glorious battle. The Jem'Hadar were made to fight and die for those they served, and the Vorta commanded the bidding.

Ambassador Weyoun himself damned made sure to take his enemy by surprise. The fear in his heart was no longer present, boldly going forth on the attack.

And if he ever found Luaran's corpse, preserved as it was, he would leave Kilana to burn it in his absence for he did not wish to look upon that face again. The face that haunted his nightmares for forty nights to come.

The sands whisked in the winds, but it did not reach him and his men to blind their vision. The army stood amount _uman_ , on the cliff overlooking the camp in the distant. Weyoun looked briefly beside him to see Kilana in armor similar to him, a sheer curtain over her face to protect it from the sands. "Guard my wife," he said to the Jem'Hadar beside him. "She's more...precious to me than my own life." If he died then, then he died for her and knowing he spared her life. If Gelnon won, then he could only pray to the Founders to watch over her for him and guide her towards sparing her life from his devilish brother.

With that, he and a small party of soldiers moved forward, leaving the others to make a daring raid. There was an old saying that said fortune favored the brave and the bold, and those who learned from their mistakes.

Using a scope, Weyoun himself managed to find the leading guards of Gelnon's army, and they were soon taken out - just as Elos used it to find his father on his deathbed. It was as Kilana told him, Vorta master storyteller Deyos said that stories could save you - if you used your imagination to save your life. And to follow, like Akihiro and Miana, they let loose the jars of oil so they could leave their trails - and Weyoun himself used an old lamp, courtesy of Keevan, to throw it into the trail, setting the flames into the air. As a result, it reached all tents and set the Jem'Hadar inside on fire, screaming and smelling of char that would soon follow. It would spare the trouble of fighting with swords, much to the disdain of many of his own men, but this would save their ranks. Those who were not burned drew their phaser rifles and _kar'takin_ to attack.

While his men engaged against Gelnon's, now Weyoun bared his teeth and drew his own _kar'takin_ , ready to get to the man he wanted.

"Open sesame," he hissed, finding the tent, black as the soul of the one who owned it, and slashed the fabric so he stepped inside, finding the man himself - and behind him the motionless figure in black that he never thought he would see again.

"Weyoun," Gelnon seethed, holding his sword up in defense.

"It's time to...take responsibility for your actions, and die, brother," Weyoun returned, just like Ambassador Alrashid in the tale did and got the death he deserved. And with that, he threw his blade forward so it clashed with Gelnon's. The other Vorta counterattacked by bringing his blade upwards and trying to throw Weyoun off, but he missed and got himself thrown to the side. A part of the tent collapsed from the top, threatening to take the whole structure down and trap them both.

Outside, half of his own Jem'Hadar were kneeling down and aiming crossbows to attack from distance, and they succeeded by taking out half the enemy troops. In addition, others hidden in the sand - like Black Kuro's forty - emerged and swarmed unexpectedly. Gelnon's forces overall were caught in a pincer move in the hostile movement both front and back, side by side.

As for the two brothers and enemies, the tent collapsed in the midst of their duel, but Weyoun was the first one out, catching on in time to meet Gelnon's _kar'takin_ , until his weapon was parried and knocked out of his hand, leaving him to draw out his dagger and pounce onto the ambassador, the latter being strong enough to hold back the menacing knife - all the while looking behind Gelnon to see the collection of additional _kar'takin_ held together by a long rope that part of it ran forward...and lay beside him. He had an idea how to save his own life now.

He picked up the rope and pulled forward, the collection of deadly blades tilting forward - just like the stoned army in the tomb Keevan and the ring djinni were trapped in - and then he drew his leg upwards and kicked his brother in the middle of the abdomen, sending him backwards and sailing into the air...

...and Gelnon was pierced through the heart from behind by a _kar'takin._

A rush of exhilaration coursed through Weyoun as he just lay there, looking up at his brother who was now bleeding from the nose and mouth. Death came in many shapes and sizes - and now it was Gelnon's turn. The life left his eyes, leaving Weyoun's own to brighten at his victory.

He was turning away from his brother's spiked corpse when he saw _her_ coming his way on her stallion, a vision in golden armor. Kilana had come in the midst of the end of the fighting. She was looking down, and he followed her gaze. The body of Luaran lay there, having been revealed by a flapping piece of the fallen tent, and his decision still stood. They would light it up and burn it together, but first, there was one thing to do as she got down from her ride and ran towards her husband.

Amidst smoke, fire and death, Weyoun and Kilana shared a kiss more vibrant and passionate than ever before.

~o~

"The battle was won and over at last," Kilana stated with a smile as she looked down at the two beautiful boys in both her arms, as the three of them laid in the same bed that she still shared with her beloved husband to this day after ten years of marriage.

"And Father won?" her eldest, Neruun, asked happily, being on the side of his mother with telling stories himself more than his younger sibling. But the proud mother loved both her sons just as much, for she smiled down at them both.

"Yes. Father won and saved not only Maduraa City and all of Kurill Prime - but _all_ of the Dominion."

Both boys gasped and leaped back with joy. "That was exciting!" Cianan said, having wanted to hear more about his father's courage and his mother's intelligence. "You're really good at telling stories, Mother. Will you tell us another?"

Kilana laughed at their persistence at wanting to hear another story - and that was exactly what they inherited from their father. Their eagerness to hear more. But it was morning now. Gathering both her sons into her embrace and kissing them, she promised, "Tomorrow night, my boys. And when your father and grandfather join us, I will tell you all another story...tomorrow night."

 **This story is one of the best I am proud of, and no regrets. :) Like the other chapters before this, I played around with the real names of real cities both Arabic and Indian, just changed the spelling a little but kept it the same otherwise, same with the names of the three brothers - and the names of Kilana and Weyoun's sons are Irish based names. I should have said earlier this was the last chapter, like I normally do, but I decided to wait and see as this went on. Now that you know it is, I am pleased with the results.**

 **Weyoun underwent more drama, betrayal and intrigue than he must have on the show, but as I was talking to a friend, she said that he played the role of the Sultan very well. :) As for Kilana herself, she was right from the beginnng as Scheherazade. It is always important to make sure the RIGHT person is for the character, same with the other Vorta.**

 **Read and review. :)**


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